


Take a Bow

by TheNovelNightingale



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Reapers, Broadway, Comedy, Developing Friendships, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Identity, Interspecies Romance, Mass Effect - Freeform, Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Musicals, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tags May Change, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23466370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNovelNightingale/pseuds/TheNovelNightingale
Summary: Turians have a simple concept: you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn't interfere with your duties. Simple enough. But does that include musicals? Because when one Turian auditions for humanity’s greatest entertainment called Broadway, he might have bitten off more than he could chew with balancing duty, and love.
Relationships: OC Turian Male/OC Human Female
Comments: 90
Kudos: 48





	1. Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

They always played this song. 

To be fair, he and his coworkers usually came here the same day every week at the same time, but did that excuse the same clockwork for the same Asari club song? The answer is debatable. 

To Dysus he couldn’t find himself to care enough; the whirl of the song’s bridge rattled the ice in his brandy. It was still fairly early in the evening, but he wasn’t feeling particularly social, not after fifteen hours of meetings back to back for corporate discussions of manufacturing parts that needed to be shipped to Palaven _yesterday_. 

Corporate purchasing: this was not how Dysus expected to be living in his thirties. Going from sporadic shore leave on the Citadel from his military posting to living on the citadel in less than a decade of his mandatory service period still raises some brow plates. According to his friends, his family, and himself, this was his ‘prime’ and to some he was wasting it. He’s given up trying to explain that it wasn’t really his choice to begin with. 

A loud shout on the other side of the circular bar brought him back to the room. The chorus beckoned him, and he found himself trying very hard to not hum along. You’d think after hearing the song more than a dozen times it would lose its merit, but damn if it wasn’t catchy. He reminded himself once again to add it to his workout playlist. If it’s going to be a part of his life he might as well embrace it fully. 

An elbow knocked against his own, rattling the glass to almost knock out of his talons slick from the heavy condensation. While maintaining his composure, and drink, his boss gave a small chuckle. When he leaned in closer, his words came off with a low rumble somehow able to be heard _under_ the music rather than over. 

“Might as well grab a pole and join them son,” he laughed, nodding towards his hands. Following the older Turian’s gaze, Dysus caught himself, as he was- once again- tapping his talons excitedly on the bar table to the beat. He stopped immediately, he thought he was doing a decent job tonight holding back. 

“Not tonight Mr. Qui’in,” He laughed along half heartedly to shake off the minor embarrassment. In truth he hated having to hide his love of music, but he rather not invoke more teasing in the office. Qui’in wouldn’t be a fuel to it; he was the one looking out for him anyway.

His drinking companion gave a simple grunt as a reply before adjusting in his chair, “They never fixed these Spirits’ damned chairs.”

“I think the creaking noise is just you old man.” 

He raised his brow plate at him, “You’re probably the only one who can get away with saying that.” 

Dysus liked his boss, he was a confident, cool and collected individual who could easily be mistaken as a politician from the way he carried himself. How he could be so relaxed in this line of work was commendable. Dysus wasn’t working at the company long and already felt haggard, but not enough to look older- yet. 

Maybe it was their mutual contact connection that put him in his boss’s good graces, whatever the reason it was internally comical whenever Dysus would reflect on the staple scene: Two Turians sitting at a bar filled with strippers on opposite sides of the age range in a comfortable silence. They weren’t here for strippers, just the booze. The rest of the office workers voted for the place. The same bar every week. If the music wasn’t any good, Dysus might have stopped coming along months ago. 

He looked back to Qui’in, another snippy remark on his mouth plates. “Rajil calls you old all the time,” Dysus glanced over his shoulder as if saying the name would summon the trouble maker himself. 

Qui’in swiveled on his chair to face him, “yes well my nephew can only get away with so much-” Suddenly looking beyond the younger Turian he gave a nod, “The fact that you are drinking with me and not him says a lot.” It was a stab without malice, and Dysus understood; Rajil loved his uncle, but was still mixed up as the youngest in the office from his love of...other activities. And infatuated with other people. 

Dysus turned in his own chair to follow his second nod to the other guys crowded around one of the tables with said pole and therefore said dancer. A beautiful half naked asari dangled from the object with controlled grace, and stressed out Turians ate that shit up. The turian with clone markings from the boss’ was being the loudest: hooting and hollering to the asari with less grace than normal fans. It was a personal affair, after all the asari performing was his girlfriend. Rajil was far more laid back than other Turians he knew, and a part of him applauded his self control when it came to being territorial. 

The pair went back to their drinks, falling into a comfortable silence. Qui’in and he didn’t need to talk much, that was usually their relationship. Work, drink, part their ways. It was simple. Simple was all Dysus needed, and all he deserved. 

**~♫~**

The bar was closing by the time Dysus helped his best friend hobble towards the exit. He was being resistant, demanding to wait on Lyla, who was closing up for the night from her shift. That meant it was the early hours of the morning, and they needed to be at work in less than a few hours. Dysus knew when Rajil had started trying to dance with her it was going to be a long night and he would need some help getting home. Lyla probably could, but if he passed out she would have had issues carrying him. It was easier to wait for them. 

Dysus was just able to get the light brown plated Turian outside the door before he began muttering small whimpers of ‘needing his Lyla’. Dysus assured him she would be out soon, trying not to laugh at his sorry state. There would be pleasure in watching him attempt to work later on. 

When they finally saw her, the deep blue Asari with magenta markings was stuffing a bright colored pamphlet into her bag, peaking Dysus’ interest. He had to ask her what it was. 

Lyla shot a confused look, before looking to where he was pointing, “Oh this?” She pulls out the paper again, “Get this; it’s a casting call for a show. A human show of some sort. They need dancers.” 

Rajil was purring wildly now, and Dysus couldn’t take it anymore, happy to dump him on his girlfriend to grope, trading hands with the paper to read as they walked. 

What he read shocked him. “A musical? Sounds arbitrary. How did they pull that off?” 

Lyla held Rajil up, using her body as leverage, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. She replied through gritted teeth of the suddenly tight embrace, “I heard rumors about this a while ago, a few months at least. They must have been getting permits this whole time.” They began walking down the deserted streets of the lower wards towards a transport station. “But a real human musical. That's going to cause some trouble.” 

“You're not going to audition?” Dysus wasn’t surprised, mostly because humans were involved so heavily. 

“No, I can see a lot of problems with it in the future, not gonna touch that with my shiny ass pole.” She laughed, her boyfriend nipping at her neck now, as if Dysus wasn’t two feet behind them. To not have to look at the blatant display, he unfolded the paper out of his own curiosity to stare at the bolded words: 

**CALLING ALL ACTORS, SINGERS, DANCERS, AND MUSICIANS!**

**Come be a part of the next big thing on the Citadel! A story of truth, beauty, and love!**

**All races are welcome to audition!**

Beneath it was the details of location, date and time. He wondered why all races were welcomed by a human cultural performance. Was it all for political gain? Who would audition, besides some dancers from the club who he knew were in need of money? Was this worth it? Lyla was right with one thing: nothing good could come out of this. Humans were a pushy species, always wanting more of what council space had to offer. He himself never dealt with humans business wise, but he’s heard a lot. He’s passed them on the street on the Citadel, more and more of them appearing each day. 

Still….

By the time they got to the station, the conversation of the casting call was dropped completely. Dysus hailed a skycar for the now very handsy couple, making the executive decision to just walk home tonight. It wasn’t until a block or two from his apartment that he realized the pamphlet had mysteriously come with him. He wanted to toss it away, but there were no trash cans around, and he certainly wouldn’t litter. So he put it in his pocket, just until he got home, he thought. And he definitely wasn’t humming the tune of the song at the club that they always play. 

**~♫~**

The next few days at work were running similar; the hours were not getting any better, and they wouldn’t until the contracts were finalized for this set of purchases. Dysus slumped over his desk, heads in his hands, waiting for the clock to change for his next call, which he has to miss lunch for.

A knock on his door was followed by a stream of bright light from outside, and an almost welcome brown plated Turian poking his head in. Rajil wasted no time to ignore the annoyed look on his friend’s face before promptly asking, “Hey mind if I close my eyes here for an hour?” 

Dysus sighed, too tired to argue otherwise, and nodded to the far corner. “Sure, but I have a call meeting in five so just be quiet.”

“You got it.” Rajil slid in the room and shut the door behind him to plunge it back into near darkness, barrel rolling into the corner and hitting the wall with a soft _thump_ ; someone really didn’t care for their brand new set of business clothes. He wasn’t ready to take the quiet part to heart though, “maintenance get back to you?” He asked, referring to the broken lights. 

“No,” he said simply, “I highly doubt they ever will.” 

“You know you could just tell my uncle and he’d probably get someone here…” he said for the thousandth time, but more of teasing than actual advice. Rajil would prefer if the lights stay broken in a permanent 70% dim so he could have his naps, but the problem was still frustrating. 

Dysus shook his head, “It’s not his problem, it's the building. I’ll be fine waiting.” 

His friend scoffed, “You’re always fine with it. I know you love me, but you can't be _fine_ with seeing me all the time.” 

If Rajil wasn’t like a brother to him, maybe his words would be true. “No Raj, it’s fine. We Turians have excellent darkvision. If we didn’t then I would have a problem.” his tired eyes darted to the corner of his personal Terminal to the clock, bringing up a talon to silence whatever he was going to rebuttal with. Rajil snapped his jaw shut and nodded, slumping into his little nest of a corner while Dysus opened communications with the factory.

The next twenty minutes dragged on like drying paint, conveniently the only thing keeping Dysus from closing his eyes was the occasional fidgeting of Rajil in the corner to his right. He answered the questions, made several reminders of the deadlines they’re trying to make so he doesn’t lose his job, and at one point got so aggravated he had to mute his microphone on his end to allow the deep heavy exhale as his only release. He clawed at his face, wishing for his talons to drill into his brow and kill him. A small shuffling noise arose before small steps came to his side. He could feel him cross his arms over his chest, “Wow. Just wow.” Was all he said, speaking more towards the terminal where the contacts were still bickering. 

Dysus sat back up, “I need a vacation.” 

His friend’s mandibles flared, “Well, yeah obviously. Why don’t you put in a request for- Well what do we have here?” Dysus’s brain was still a fog of anger and a death wish and didn’t realize until it was too late when Rajil bent over his desk to swipe something sticking out from the corner of his workload. Dysus tried to grab it, but it was too late, Rajil held it high over his head peeking at the familiar bright paper in the dark. “Why on Palaven do you still have this? I thought Lyla threw it out!” 

“I held onto it, in case she wanted it back,” Dysus replied lamely. 

“Riiight. So are you going to audition?” Rajil wasn’t even looking at him, paying more attention to the piece of paper with a sudden interest, like it was the secret to a long lost mystery. Dysus nearly choked, double checking that his mic was indeed still muted. 

He had to sputter a reply, “No. Why would I? You’re being ridiculous Raj,” He tried to play off, wanting to shut this conversation down now and go back to the call. 

Rajil was persistent, unfortunately. “Dysus, you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me you aren’t even interested in this can you?” When he looked up to his friend’s face, they both knew Rajil was right. Suddenly he said, “Well why not?” 

“Why not what?” 

“Why don’t you audition?” 

That floored Dysus for a moment. The excuses already were bubbling out of his throat, “Rajil, I can’t drop my responsibilities to do something so- so-” 

“Fun? New? Exciting?” Rajil finished, his tone suddenly more serious than before. “You’ve been working yourself ragged and don’t do anything fun to relieve your stress.” 

“I-” 

“-You drink some booze in the company of my crusty-ass uncle, that’s not stress relief. I’ve never even seen you with a girl longer than a blind date.” 

“You set me up on those-” 

“So you don’t turn into the old geezers who fought in the first contact war and still bitch about it.” Rajil tossed the paper on his desk, “Dysus, as your best friend I need you to do this. Don’t think about anything else but you.” He leaned in closer to make sure Dysus was listening. “Just give it a shot, if you hated it and it was a stupid idea, then I expected a giant ‘I told you so’ said to my face.” 

There would have been silence, if not for the suddenly louder voice on the other end speaking up, _“Uhh hello? Mr. Gracchus are you there?”_

Panic emerged as Dysus practically pushed Rajil away to swat at the controls at his terminal, “Yes yes i’m here, could you repeat that last part?” Rajil was covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to quiet his laughter, Dysus shooting him a stare of daggers, while in the back of his mind contemplating what he had said. As the meeting dragged on, and Rajil eventually snuck out of his office, Dysus glanced at the paper conveniently in front of him at his desk, the bold address beckoning him with a promise of absolutely nothing. It intrigued him anyway.

**~♫~**

This was… not what he expected. 

The address for the auditions was in the lower Zakera ward, past the corner shop he knows Lyla mentioned to have drug deals go down, to a small studio apartment squished between two much larger apartment complexes. Here? Humans were weird. 

It indeed was here, because there was a line of people at the door. Asari and a lot of humans. Were all humans into this musical stuff? Carefully, and earning no less than a handful of shocked or uneasy looks, Dysus made his way inside. 

In a flash a woman with bright blue hair balled up on top her head wearing all black was in front of him before he could blink. “You here for cast auditions?” 

Recomposing himself, he made sure he didn’t look as shaken as he was by the surprise. “Uh...yes.” 

She was writing something down on paper, not even meeting his gaze, “Do you have a headshot and resume with you today?” 

A what? “A what?” 

The woman sighed, “Fill this out and bring it with you when it's your turn.” A paper and clipbord was shoved at his chest, and before Dysus could open his mouth to ask a question- any question- regarding what the fuck he was supposed to do when he got in, she was gone, talking to somebody spotted on the other side of the room. Now alone, he scoped out the room to see that many others were also filling out a similar paper, all clumped together and speaking in hushed tones, but not to each other. He took an empty spot against a wall on the far side, weary of the few humans who were pacing back and forth, talking to themselves. A brief strike of concern ignited within him, was this really the place? Or did he just walk into a mental hospital? A lot of people here were not acting incredibly sane. To be safe he looked around the room for hidden cameras or the undercover Rajil of the possibility this was an elaborate prank. If it was, Dysus was going to kill him. 

He had to be sure, and so he took a moment to take a single step towards the row of chairs to an occupied Human male concentrating on the form similar to his own. He cleared his throat, “excuse me, this is the casting auditions correct?” 

The human male looked up from his work to stare dubiously at Dysus like he was the dumbest being in the galaxy, “Uh, yeah it is.” And he went back to looking at the paper, penciling in furiously in a small box. Dysus guessed he was not pleased with his presence and barely tolerated answering his question so he was on his own now. With that basic, somewhat satisfactory answer, he gained prerogative to stay in the building surrounded by squishy humans casting him mixed glances of shock, curiosity, and disdain. 

Returning to his spot against the wall, he stared at the paper in front of him. 

_Name_ : That was an easy one. 

_Schedule_ : he knew it by heart, it hasn’t changed in two years. 

The tightness in his chest he didn’t know he had loosened with the first section of questions. It was probably the first time he had to describe what he looked like physically to anyone. For a moment he forgot what color his eyes were. Once in his childhood he was told he had his mother’s pale amber eyes. Should he describe his colony marks? What was the rule for that? 

The questions went downhill from that. 

_What role are you auditioning for?_

He wasn't sure. He didn’t really take a look at the character list. It was a longshot, and was about scribbling ‘anything’ until he came across one of the options to circle, which read _ensemble dancer_. Deep down, Dysus was hoping to do some dancing again, that was what really drew him to coming in the first place. Knowing full well it was a stupid dream, he marked that down and continued on. A lot of things he left blank, unsure what to answer. 

“Hello.”

He looked up almost too quickly, so distracted by the internal debate of going through this he didn’t notice the human woman walk up to him standing in front of him with a posture so strong he felt like a slacker. He must have took stupid juice at work today because ever since coming to this address he couldn’t say shit right, and struggled to return the greeting. In his hesitation she checked herself, “I was just wondering what made a Turian want to audition? You are here for auditions right?” her voice was like aged whiskey, something that both soothed him and intimidated. She gave him direct eye contact as he simply gave a nod. Surprise on the confirmation graced her posture, but then it was gone, “Interesting. What are you going for? Dancer? A lead?” 

“I uh- i’m not sure actually.” Dysus figured she was just scoping out the competition, or lack thereof. He knew he stuck out like a Hanar Preacher on the Presidium, but did he have to look so clueless? He straightened his back against the wall, finding himself relenting to honesty, “I’ve never done this before.” 

His answer, or maybe the way he said it, caused her face to soften, a small smile witching at the corner of her mouth. “First auditions are terrifying, I still remember my first one. GOD it was horrible I was shocked I got the part!” She laughed, a hollow bark that almost startled him. When he didn’t laugh with her she jutted a hip out and rested one of her hands on it, “You ok?”

He could lie, she was a human and therefore wouldn’t be as proficient in noting him lie. Yet something deep in his gut was telling him this may be his one chance to understand more about this human process. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it. He finally found his voice, the words stumbling out, “I shouldn’t be here.” 

Her smile stayed stagnant, “it’s just the jitters. Happens to the best of us.” She looked around the room, and when she looked back to him, she surprised him with another curveball, “What are you auditioning with?” 

“What?” 

She laughed, “Song. What song piece are you auditioning with?”

Dysus was rendered speechless for the second time today. He preplanned the time off to get to the audition location an hour early (as advised by Rajil who overheard such tips from Lyla’s friends), but he hadn’t thought of _that_. 

The woman was excellent at reading his stunned silence, “Do you know a song? Any song?” 

He said the first one that came to mind, “ _Die for the Cause_.” 

This answer at least peaked her interest. “Ooo, what’s that?” 

How could he explain to a human what Die for a Cause was besides the closest thing to a Turian anthem and musical piece of genius? He opted for, “Just a Turian song.” 

She shifted her weight on her feet, brushing a strand of her long hair out of her face, “Is it a...musical song?” 

Dysus had no idea what that had to do with it, he squirmed in his casual attire, “Die for a cause is the prime example of music to Turian culture.” 

She opened her mouth to reply, but a loud voice announced they would be starting soon. She quickly fed him as much information as possible, “Look, regular songs are fine, but musical theatre songs are preferred for this- or early 21st century hits of Human culture but I doubt you’d know that. I’m sure you’ll think of something, and don’t forget this-” she pulled a small piece of paper from the corner of the clipboard, peeling it in half and slapping the tag with a bold #420 on his chest. “Blocks are in groups of fifteen, I gotta go, break a leg!” And she darted off, her hair swaying behind her. Dysus gripped the clipboard, and went to find his block. 

**~♫~**

When his group made their way into another room, Dysus was completely nervous for the first time since basic. He kicked himself, he, a Turian, should not be nervous. He wasn’t even killing anything, the thought didn’t stop him from almost fumbling the clipboard as he handed it to the woman who had given it to him upon entry, her face void of any emotion. The room was bare except for a table across from them with four chairs, three of them occupied by two humans and an Asari. Off to the side was another human on a stool with a long, flat device laying in front of him on a crux of some sort. His group were all humans, except for him. They stood like soldiers in a straight line equal length apart, staring ahead to the table. 

This wasn’t an audition. 

This was an execution. 

The woman with the blue hair closed the door and introduced them to the table, but Dysus wasn’t listening, not really, his thoughts swam with anxiety. The first man at the end stepped forward, leaping into a song immediately.

His thoughts spasmed, _How the- but humans were-?_

The women too! They were so _loud_ and _powerful_ ; their voices bounced off the walls, and no one batted an eye. He was supposed to do something like that, and had no idea if he could. He's not much of a singer, at least he didn't know if he was. If he had known the dancing audition was separate- 

Suddenly it was his turn, far sooner than he hoped. The others had papers given to the man with the musical instrument to play for their song, and he had none. 

“What will you be singing for us?” The Asari spoke up for the first time in a while. She's made about a handful of comments the entire time, mostly nodding her head with each performance and taking notes on a datapad. 

“I uh-" He made a small glance towards the instrument parallel I them, "-well, I don’t have any sheets-” 

At this confession the man held a hand up to get his attention, “It's fine, chances are we might know the song.” 

“Yes sir. I know uh “ _Ranks of Romance_ ” from…” He mumbled the source title under his breath nervously. 

While the rest of the room quietly stared at him, the Asari broke the tension in the room with gave a small- but gentle- chuckle before leaning forward, “I'm sorry, what was that?" 

Dysus knew this was a bad idea, was it too late to change it to Die for the Cause? "It's from... _Fleet and Flotilla_." 

He got a few chuckles from somewhere around the room, but the Asari and Human gave him appraising looks. The Asari nodded her head eagerly, "Well then sing away! John here knows the song." 

Dysus fell into parade rest to keep himself from bolting out the door after experiencing the most embarrassment in his entire life, and the man- John- started to play a familiar tune. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and sang. 

**~♫~**

Lunch time was over; Dysus making his way back into the dark cave of his office, placing the bag of his leftovers from the diner in the bottom drawer of his desk, before promptly falling into his chair, all the muscles in his legs and back aching. 

_He got pulled to the side after two hours of rigorous dancing. His audition block technically ended over an hour and twenty minutes ago, but the instructor kept asking him to stay and 'see more' whatever that meant. When he asked what it all meant, he was given an odd look but told to not worry about it, they just wanted to see more. Whether or not it was a good thing or not, the Turian was actually glad to be able to stick around. he hasn't moved like this in a while, and he was not going to the gym enough, he must be out of shape, he could barely keep up. Then, a wave of the hand brought him to the hallway to speak with the man who was behind the table at auditions. He must be the man in charge of this operation._

_"Hey, do you think you could come over to read some lines with a few people?"_

The Turian winced, adjusting himself to be as comfortable as possible, using his gym jacket as a pillow for his lower back. Gingerly he reached to the corner of his desk for the pain relievers he needed to but after that dance audition- which was only a few days ago. 

_Dysus was thrown into a group of people in another room with papers in their hands. The man slapped a paper in his own hands and shoved him in front of a young Asari maiden to work with. She seemed to find a lot of joy in this matchup, and a lot of the lines they had to say to each other seemed to be taken very seriously by the Asari, and either she really was a good actress that deserved to be here, or she was hinting at something else as her eyes constantly looked him up and down. After a few 'performances' the Human switched them up and she got to read lines with another human female, she was shorter than most humans, with that fringe stuff- hair he learned from the audition sheet- so long it went down to her rear._

"Gracchus, when do you think you'll have the receipts for me to file?" One of his coworkers made a drive by his office, startling Dysus out of his methodical organizing of his desk. 

he cleared his throat, "I'll have it done by the end of the day," he assured, watching his coworker bob his head in acknowledgment before walking away. 

_“Hey be straight with me son, you ever perform before?”_

_“No sir.”_

_“What made you want to audition?”_

His email read over sixty missed messages from the time he left for lunch forty minutes ago to now. He sighed, already dragging the icon over to begin sorting through.

Then, one email caught his eye, it wasn't of the normal Extranet addresses used for work. The subject sticking out like a fish in the desert:

**Cast List (CONGRATULATIONS):**

_“I think you got the stuff my plated friend, something raw and moldable. Here’s the thing, this ain't the military, in fact it's worse. More bloodthirsty and killer than any operation you’ve worked on. This is hard work, but something my partner Ne'line tells me all the time is you guys aren’t afraid of hard work, but you think you can handle rehearsals, fittings, dancing rehearsals, vocal rehearsals every day hours on end?”_

_With each point the man got closer and closer in his personal space to where Dysus actually needed to take small steps back. The human peered into his soul, what the hell was this place? This industry, he thought he could handle it.... Could he?_

Peeking above his terminal, he made sure no one was coming before darting back to the screen and clicking on the message. 

**We are so grateful for the amazing turnout we had for these auditions! Below is the finalized cast list, followed by information of our first rehearsal!**

**CAST:**

**Christian** …………………….. ……….…….Kyle Rutherford

**Satine** ………………………... ……….…….Nichole Lovette

His amber eyes slowly, carefully, made their way down the list, trying to not anticipate or expect anything, the important thing was that yes- Rajil was right. Auditioning was the most fun he's had in a while, and he was terrified out of his mind. 

His eyes stopped near the bottom of the list where his name was attached: 

**Dancer**

He… got a part? Him. A Turian: got a role of a human show? His brain both numbed and threatened to pop from his skull, a feeling of what he assumed to be- what exactly? Whatever it was, he didn’t want the feeling to go away.

No, he was solidified in this moment.

Once the tingling in his brain subsided, it was instead filled with questions. he looked again, realizing he froze at the one word and didn't bother to read the rest: 

**Dancer/**

**Christian Understudy** …………. ……….…….Dysus Gracchus 

Dysus couldn’t pull his eyes away from the screen for a solid five minutes, reading and rereading it again to make sure the words weren’t an illusion or if there was any sign of this being a typo.

He opened a new tab to type the question faster than he could blink. The results popped up immediately. 

**_Un·der·stud·y_ **

**_(in the theater) a person who learns another's role in order to be able to act as a replacement at short notice._ **

He gasped, sinking back into his chair; he was a backup for the lead? The lead role? His thoughts swam, trying to either justify or be concerned of the new pressure rising in his chest. Attached was the date and time for the first rehearsal, and a reminder of things to bring. 

He was going to be in a musical. Him. Once his father hears-

No. Definitely not. His father was not going to give him that look of disappointment he grew accustomed to when he was a kid, because he was _not_ going to know about this.

No one had to. 

_Dysus has let his life go on with him being dragged along, for once he was going to try something he wanted. Then, the Turian realized the man was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. There was somehting about this man that made him want to prove himself, and just with words._

_“Yes sir, I can do it.”_

_The human leaned back, as if satisfied with his answer. “There may be hope for you yet.”_

Trying something new. He was trying something new. 

Before he knew it he was on com directly to his boss. “Sir, I know it is short notice, but I was wondering if I could take tomorrow afternoon off?”


	2. Truth Beauty Freedom Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First read-through! Contracts! And suspicious eyes. For Dysus: it's only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Bioware (wouldn't that be nice?) or the Mass effect Universe. I also do not own this Broadway show.

When Dysus returned to the same tenant apartment building deep in the wards for the first rehearsal titled: ‘introduction and read-through’, he had to regain his composure and confidence of the great return before entering the room right on time. He spent a lot of time the night before looking the cast list up and down, trying to match names with their duties for a smoother transition. It was then and only then he finally realized the name of the man behind the table, who took him to the side after dance auditions, and who leveled with him about taking this seriously. The Director: Britton Lorenzo. Dysus didn’t exactly know the role of a director, but he must be highest on the tier of it all. 

Interestingly enough, the door opened to reveal a room full of people. His heart sank with the realization that everyone else was already present, was he the last person to arrive?

The previous audition room was altered to be more open; three dozen or so chairs were set up in a wide circle. Most of the chairs were filled with humans, but he was surprised to even see six or seven Asari present. 

When all heads turned to face him, any sign of chatter died off on the spot. In the sudden stillness he caught a few looks of frustration. It gave him an odd feeling, like he had actually done something wrong. Not a word was said for a moment, Dysus shifting awkwardly in his spot. Then a familiar, short, skinny man who had been speaking in the center of the circle finally noticed the reason of the silence lingering in the doorway, 

Lorenzo’s face lit up, “Aha! Yes! Our last member has arrived! Now we can finally start!” 

Dysus took a step inside the room, voice weary, “I’m here at the specified time...” 

A snort from one of the humans echoed in the space, its owner twisting around in her seat, elbow propping on the back of the chair. “Actually you’re late, but I think you might be lost, right Turian?” 

Ignoring the light stab, Dysus was trying to contemplate the information. Dysus was never late. His blood cells were internal clocks, Turians were punctual to a fault. 

In his confusion he hadn’t noticed an Asari close the door behind him and come to his side to lightly touch his arm. He recognized her as the other one at auditions, he deduced she was Ne’line Junn, the only Asari name among those who were executives of the auditioning process. If his assumption was right, she was an assistant Director of sorts. She gave him a weary smile, “Nono it’s just different here.” She was just as gentle and kind as she was at auditions when asking him about his song. This made Dysus feel he had some sort of backup, or at least she knew just as well as he that he was way out of his element here. 

“Yeah!” another, less aggressive voice popped up from deep within the circle, “On-time is  _ late _ .” 

He tried to wrap his head around that. 

Another human nearby continued, as if repeating an old mantra told to him, “Early is on-time, on-time is late, and late-” 

“You might as well not show up.” Lorenzo finished, clapping his hands together to return the group to focus. “No harm done my tall, plated friend. Take a seat, we were just starting introductions.” 

He did so, making his way to the only open seat left besides the two with stacks of papers and datpads sitting atop them. The small, obviously human chair creaked beneath his weight as he tried to make himself comfortable. Next to him on his right a dark skinned human gave him an assuring smile; the one on his left, the female woman who considered him lost, didn’t look him in the eye. 

“My name is Britton Lorenzo and I am your Director. From here on out me and my assistant director/producer-” He waved behind him gracefully to the dark Asari returning to her seat, giving a small polite wave to everyone, “- Miss Ne’line Junn will be in charge of getting your butts show ready in less than six months...”

He first went on to introduce the technical leaders of the show and their jobs; before this Dysus had no grasp of just how many people were involved with putting one show on together, it was honestly interesting. There was someone for lights, sound, costumes, construction, Props and special effects, the list went on and on. 

Lastly Lorenzo introduced someone called the stage manager. “-And we would not be able to  _ attempt _ something of this scale without our great, amazing Stage Manager Miss Hopkins-” He pointed to the human woman with the blue hair sitting beside Junn, who has been typing furiously at a datapad in her hands. The human’s head shot up, giving the crowd a less enthusiastic hello. Lorenzo seemed ecstatic, correcting himself, “Forget what I said: I lied,  _ her _ word is law. She says jump, you say how high. She is order, she is control, she is-” 

“-Amazing, but not that amazing,” Hopkins finished with what seemed to be a sly smile. Dysus wasn’t sure. Humans were still difficult to read, and reading this bunch threw a wrench in the whole idea.

After that the tech crew leaders were granted leave- they obviously had other things to do. Vacating a huge chunk of seats implied the next chapter of this rehearsal. Dysus couldn’t help but notice the strange looks he was getting, as if questioning why he was still here. He hoped he could just sit, listen, and not have to do anything to warrant more unwanted attention-

“Before we start we should all introduce ourselves!” Lorenzo pivoted in the center to scan each and every face, before glancing to Hopkins, “When Amy calls your name, stand up and tell us your role, and something about yourself!” 

Hopkins took a sheet from Junn and began reading the names. 

“Greg”

The dark skinned human man next to Dysus stood up, clasping his hands together in front of him. The man wore nearly nothing, a pink sleeveless top chopped up to expose his entire stomach, and contrasting blue shorts. Was this all a part of the rehearsal process, Dysus didn’t know. “Uh hey guys! I'm just very thankful and excited to be here on this journey with you all.” He began the motion of sitting down before his eyes widened, “Oh! And i’m playing Toulouse-Lautrec.” he sat back down, making a point to give Dysus another one of his smiles. It didn’t unnerve him, it seemed friendly. 

“Nichole” 

A woman quickly stood to her feet at the corner of Dysus’ vision. First there was a blotch of color that made him do a double take, then there was the eerie familiarity about her…

A few people started clapping for her, and in turn she gave a wild exaggerated wave to the crowd. When she smiled... it  _ had _ to be her. 

“Wooooo! Go Nichole!” one of the humans cried from the other side, warranting her to start chuckling. Lorenzo, who had been shaking in his seat, rose up in his own applause cheering the woman as well, 

“Yes Brava! Our fabulous Satine! Our shining star!” 

It took a second for the majority of the noise to quiet down, Nichole speaking over everyone the best she could until then, “Thank you thank you! Well yes as you can tell, i’ve worked with Director Lorenzo before, and I am just excited to be a part of a musical on the Citadel.” 

Dyson’s mind was on repeat of the same realization that this woman was the very same who took the time to help him at auditions. Before questioning it, he decided to not be surprised she got a role, especially a lead role, she seemed expecting to get it when she first walked up to him days ago. 

Lorenzo glanced around the circle, “Well where is your counterpart then? Where is your Christi- oh there you are!” No more than two seats down, a man of stronger stature got up and walked beside Nichole, he gave her a wide smile and put an arm around her shoulder. She smiled back at him as he introduced himself, “I’m Kyle. And I am excited to be back to working with Lorenzo and Nichole again.” They all laughed, he put some of his weight on her side to gently rock her off balance. Lorenzo waved a hand in the air and settled back into the chair, which caused the others to follow suit. The chatter was still going low as Hopkins read the next name. 

“Dysus”

Slowly- but knowing he just had to stand up, say something, then sit back down- he rose from his seat that gave a cry of relief. With everyone else sitting down he towered over them at his full height, but he surely didn’t feel tall, not when seeing how the entire room stopped silent for the second time today purely because of him. He could feel eyes attempting to stare holes through his clothes, one glare in particular directed from Kyle, the man playing Christian. 

It felt like another eternity until he made eye contact with Lorenzo and Miss Junn, waiting expectantly. “I uh, i’m a dancer.” 

It couldn’t be that simple. 

“And?” Lorenzo had this huge grin on his face, as if he didn’t know he was egging him on to say the specific words (and he was, Dysus could tell). 

There were a few murmurs around him as he took a breath. Next thing he knew his eyes glossed over to Nichole, the person who helped him get here- in a way. She wasn’t looking at him in disdain, or disappointment, she had no obvious expression at all.  _ Just the jitters, _ he echoed her words, finding a small fire within to stare directly at Kyle, facing the deep suspicion in stride. 

“And the understudy for Christian.” he told him.

There was a mixed reaction from the crowd, some open gaped, silent as their brain shut down and turned back on, others being incredibly verbal, saying things such as “What?” “Huh?” “No way!” “A bird?” “How?” 

Another part, shockingly equal to the first, were cheering, clapping, whooping and hollering like he was a prized Varren. Dysus stood there taking it all in, he was unsure of how to exactly diffuse...whatever this scene was. 

Then someone from the crowd said something so low, that the whole room heard it. 

“Can Turians even sing?” 

That turned the room on its head, and before he knew it most of the room was chanting:

“Sing!”

“Sing!” 

“Sing!” 

“Yeah show us what you got!”

Now feeling the heat, Dysus was ready to just sit down and forget about it, even the man next to him- Greg- was cheering with the rest, shooting him this wide smile begging him to sing for them. He didn’t know what the big deal was, he didn’t think he could sing. He was lucky to have survived the first time. 

The he saw Nichole on the other side of the room at the edge of her seat chanting along, the essence of excitement around her. Well he guessed he could…

Maybe for her. 

Before he could open his mouth to say anything the Stage Manager did something that blew his mind- the woman shoved two of her large fingers into her mouth and a loud, high pitched whistling noise pierced the room, stunning everyone to silence, and groans of pain. Lorenzo took a breath, 

“Thank you Amy. Now, there is no need to put him on the spot, you’ll all get a chance to hear him later, we are-” He snapped to Hopkins, who was now tapping her wrist at him, “-behind schedule so we need to move on and start a speed read-through of the script.” At this point Miss Junn had already started passing out packets of paper to everyone, this was the opportunity for Dysus to not awkwardly sit back in his seat. “Since this is just a read-through, there’s no need for the full emotion yet, just the characters going through lines so we can get the basic story. Amy will read the stage directions and Miss Junn and I will point out dance numbers and whatnot. We will not be singing this time-” 

A chorus of groans and heavy sighs made him wave his hands up and lower them palms down as if to push down their cries, “I know I know you will all get your chance.” His eyes flickered to Dysus, and he was now a part of that statement. He wasn’t sure if he should feel good about it or not. 

Miss Junn stood a few chairs down from him and lifted her chin to look over her shoulder to the Director, “Now will you please sit Britton?” She lightly jabbed. 

Lorenzo huffed as he made his way over, slower than he was before, “yes yes I’m sitting down.” 

With this Hopkins spoke aloud, “Before we forget, after the read-through you all have to come see me or Ne’line for your contracts. They need to all be signed and returned by next rehearsal or you will not get paid. Am I understood?” 

A bland chorus of “yes” and “yes ma’ams” rang back to her, including Dysus- because that was a tone he understood, it was the same one he received from an officer during his service. That awakened a lot of memories for him. A shadow casted over him before getting lost in his thought and he looked up to see that Miss Junn had stopped in front of him. She gave him a sympathetic look,

“I’m sorry Dysus, we were unable to get the paper script in your language for today. Is it ok if you listen?” 

“Of course Miss Junn.” 

She laughed, “Please call me Ne’line. Im barely old enough for that type of formality.” 

Unsure what else to say, Dysus nodded, looking around the room to see the other Asari hadn’t gotten a script either. It made sense, translators had a tougher time translating hard scripts, he was willing to wait, not like he needed it right now either. There wasa small jab from Greg as he leaned in, 

“I’ll fill you in,” he whispered, opening up the packet in his hands a few pages for the starting point. Dysus was thankful to have something to focus on, even if he couldn’t read it, that made less of a chance of him locking eyes with someone like Kyle. 

Lorenzo put on a pair of glasses as Junn sat next to him opening up a script of his own in a binder, taking out a pencil and saying, with the flare of his wrist to the ceiling, 

“Welcome! To the Moulin Rogue!” 

~♫~

It was late by the time they were all dismissed for the evening; Dysus had to wait around longer following the end of the reading to get his contract. A lot of the cast clumped together in small groups like instinct, talking to each other loudly. It was apparent that Humans were very social beings, if they were Turian things would be much quieter in a workplace setting like this; you only spoke to someone at work when it was about work, casual conversations were for off duty times. In this situation humans seem to mix the two, and it was confusing and not very efficient. Exactly how many of these people knew each other beforehand? Dysus only had more questions, but was too worn to be asking anything now. Greg had been true to his word and constantly asked With Lorenzo surrounded by his peers, Dysus instead bid his goodbyes to Junn and Hopkins before slipping out the door and down the creaky stairs. 

He was met by a much cooler atmosphere; something he was actually thankful for was the temperature of the Citadel Wards. It was the same every day, he just never noticed how good it felt after hours on end in a stuffy room full of humans. He wasn’t even dancing today. After a few minutes of walking a small comotion followed after him, and it didn’t take long to recognize the loud voices of some of the cast members walking on the same street. Dysus took a glance over his shoulder to see who it was, but they were too far back for him to tell. They seemed to be discussing a vid of some sort, very excitedly, a lot of 'oh my gosh yes!' and 'oooo I love that part' and even 'that voice is just- MMMM' reached his ears. They failed to notice the looks they were getting from other passerbys, or those walking in front of Dysus looking back with an annoyed glare. Dysus had to agree, what would warrant them to be so loud? 

It didn’t matter after a few blocks then Dysus took a turn towards the platform for the public rotating shuttle. The clutter of chatter passing him and continuing on their way, a mention of a place to get food being deciphered. With a sigh he clutched his contract a little tighter and waited for the next shuttle. 

A few minutes later, the public shuttle touched down, a decent crowd of late shifters departing before he went in. Taking a seat against a window, Dysus turned his Omni-Tool back on from silent mode to receive five, ten, fifteen rapid beeps of incoming messages that both startled him with an audible embarrassed gasp, clamping his hand with the contract of her his forearm to muffle the sounds that had succeeded in catching the attention of everyone in a ten meter radius. He gave an awkward mumble of apology as the beeping died down, quickly adjusting the volume to vibrate instead. None of them were from work thankfully, but there were an excessive amount of direct messages from his favorite Turian asshole. He glanced at the wall of texts before resting at the most recent one sent a minute ago. 

R:  _ Hello? Are you dead?  _

He typed a quick reply. 

D:  _ No, I'm perfectly alive.  _

R:  _ Where were you? You didn’t answer any of my messages and left so quick after lunch. _

D:  _ My Tool was silenced. I was busy. _

“You got one of those too?” 

Across from where he was sitting, a Turian was glancing down at a Salarian’s hands. Dysus recognized the same bright colored paper of the auditions that just happened. The Salarian was staring at the words with (His? Her? Dysus could never tell with Salarians) large black eyes. 

“Yes, shoved under door of business. Discovered by my employee when opened this morning. Curious.” The pitch was higher than most Salarians, Dysus came to the conclusion the Salarian was female. 

The older Turian with cracked ash plating gave a disgruntled growl, “I’ve seen them everywhere. Disgusting”

The buzz of his wrist brought him back to his conversation with Rajil, but his ear canals were still trained in front of him.

R:  _ But your Terminal didn’t even clock you as logged in after, were you at a factory? _

Of course Rajil was in his office today, Dysus thought, he probably wanted to nap again. That’s how he realized he hadn’t come back. 

D:  _ No. I was out. _

R:  _ Out?  _

“Which part? littering or the humans?” 

D:  _ Yes, out. I asked to leave early.  _

The response from Rajil was instantaneous. 

R:  _ YOU TOOK THE AFTERNOON OFF? _

_ WHAT HAPPENED?  _

D:  _ Nothing. It's no big deal _ . 

Across the conversation continued, the Turian getting more angry with each word, “Both. They think they can do whatever they want since the council decided to play peacemaker. If they hadn’t stepped in, we would have crushed them.”

It wasn’t a question of what he was talking about. Another buzz on his wrist, but Dysus slowly rolled his contract up to hide the bold title letters before viewing it. 

R:  _ Does it have something to do with a certain audition you may have heard back about? _

“Debatable, studied human/Turian tactics of Relay incident, Theories say-”

“Theories mean nothing, my brother and sister died and those monkeys get to flaunt their inferiority like some disease. They’ll just keep asking for more, and anyone who doesn’t see it is just as blind." The Turian lowered his brow, his next words a low hiss, "I don't trust anyone who trusts humans." 

The blatant anger of the Turian silenced the Salarian to simply return to the paper with a soft hmm. After a few seconds or so, she crumpled up the wrinkled paper, and leaned to the side enough to reach the on-shuttle trash container, lifting the lid with one finger to drop it in. And that was that. Dysus wasn’t sure how long he kept thinking about the Turian, his words, and the contract to humans in his lap. After a while he was brought back by the blinking of his Tool. 

R:  _ Dysus?  _

_ WELL? _

_ Did you get in? _

Who knew how many of his people still felt like that, and who would be willing to make a huge public deal about it. Dysus could tell his best friend of many years, or he could keep things on the down-low, at least for now. No reason for Rajil to open his mouth and have the entire Citadel know...

D:  _ No _

There was a pause on the other end, and Dysus wondered if it was Rajil’s turn to disappear for a few minutes, but just as the transport came to a stop a reply came in. 

R:  _ Damn. i’m sorry Dysus. Come have a drink with Lyla and I! I’m getting off soon. _

D:  _ No, it's ok. I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you tomorrow. _

Standing from his spot at the window, he waited for the elder Turian to leave the shuttle first, following after a few meters behind, paranoid of the opt chance he could spell a roomfull of humans clinging to his clothes. Some Turians had an excellent sense of smell, not as good as the Krogan, but enough for suspicion. When he was clear, the younger Turian began his walk down the next block, glancing at his Tool when the street became quiet. 

R:  _ Just so you know, it’s their loss. _

~♫~

The door slid open to near blackness, his eyes adjusting to the vague shapes of his approximate furniture as he stepped in, not bothering with the overhead lights just yet. He patterned to the kitchen, plopping the contract down with an audible slap against the counter, unrolling like an ancient scroll of the elders. Fumbling for the switch light erupted above the kitchen from the single lamp on a fan, and he began to work. 

Going into his upper cabinets Dysus pulled out a pot and took it to the sink to fill with water. He had enough ingredients for tonight, he had to go to the grocery store soon though. Luckily he didn’t have to go often, he only really cooked for himself, and maybe Rajil and Lyla if they decided to spontaneously drop by. It was a good thing tonight was not one of those nights, was he really at rehearsal for six hours? It was always hard to tell with the Wards, there was no day/night cycle like the Presidium. So darkness it is. 

An email notification beeped on his Omni-Tool, he raised it while continuing to tap a seasoning in the boiling water. It was a new message from Hopkins marked URGENT. 

_ Hey Dysus! _

_ Ne’line wanted me to tell you your hardcopy script will be given to you at your next rehearsal, in the meantime here is a digital copy. She suggests you start learning the lines like any lead role.  _

_ -Amy  _

_ //attached:/MOULINROGUE.SCRIPT.//pdf. _

Dysus hummed to himself as he opened the attachment, chopping a few vegetables while he waited for it to load on his screen. 

For the rest of the night he stood in his apartment kitchen cooking away in silence, reading the entire script twice, and the only words spoken were echoing mumbles of dialogue. Then after he ate and cleaned up his plate, he read the contract three times, signed it, wrote an email to Qui’in about rearranging his schedule, and got ready for some needed sleep.

~♫~

“So you’re not going to tell me why?” 

Dysus fought his subvocals from giving away anything, but it has been difficult. He knew he was asking a lot of his boss, the schedule on the contract was demanding at least, and when he had sent an email to Hopkins questioning it, he received a very strongly worded reply where the bottom line was: the schedule was ‘set in stone’ as it were. Eight hour rehearsals five days a week was not a minor discrepancy to invade his current job. He didn’t sleep last night, as much as he tried. Instead out of paranoia he went to his desk and reorganized his entire schedule for the next six months to the minute on the favorable solution that can appease everyone. Quitting was not an option, not only would it be extra suspicious, but he liked his job, and he had Rajil and his uncle, he couldn’t let them down. 

So he sent the schedule (erasing any labels of rehearsals from it) and received a simple, frightening reply of coming to his office first thing in the morning. 

So he was here, sitting in the chair for a solid five minutes in silence while Qui’in looked over the schedule. If it was anyone else, Dysus would receive an immediate no, but this Turian was different, he always appraised Dysus on his work, he does it on time and does it well. There had to be a chance, but if he said no…

He couldn’t say no, Dysus  _ had _ to make this work. 

A small whine attempted to escape him, but he stopped that real quick, “I’m taking up an...extra curricular.” It wasn’t a lie exactly, but he still felt the need to defend himself when Qui’in just stared. “Rajil mentioned how I don’t do anything outside of work, so I found something to do.” He gestured to the schedule pulled up on the Terminal on his desk, the screen tiled for both of them to observe. Qui’in leaned back in his large luxury Turian chair,

“Dysus, although I am glad you found something to do, I'm just trying to understand what in Spirits’ name takes this much  _ time _ ? Is there no adjusting this?” 

“No sir, I asked, the schedule is very specific.” 

“And you are telling me you can do whatever it is you’re doing,  _ and _ all your work here?” Qui’in’s subvocals were also uncharacteristic of him, more reminiscent of the period of peer review of the whole building he must take part in quarterly. During those times Dysus never had to worry, this time, he actually felt under the microscope. 

He still had confidence, no matter how small, “Yes sir, and a lot of it I can do remotely at home off the clock.” Was he willing to make up work in his spare free time? The answer came when he blocked out the schedule for his trips to the factory to take place on the clock, leaving the paperwork to have to be done from home. The Turian found he was indeed willing to risk it all. 

Qui’in stared at his Terminal once more for a few thoughtful seconds, his hand coming up to rub against his browplate. His gaze cast down on the desk before lifting right to Dysus at his next question. 

“Will you be able to sleep? Eat?” 

That stopped him, although he did plan specified hours of sleep, it was still the bare minimum for a Turian adult. He served in the military once, it was a routine he believed he could accomplish again. Same with food, he can cook large quantities of food and package it to go, or worst case he’d have to give up cooking and grab something to go elsewhere. It would be a challenge, but Dysus was already on a roll of challenges. He nodded. 

“Is this something you want to do or have to do?” 

Dysus was taken aback, “Sir?” 

Qui’in’s tone changed slightly, leaning forward now to rest his hands near the edge of the desk closest to Dysus. His eyes were piercing now, his subvocals bleeding notes of actual concern. “Were you coerced? Are you in trouble?” 

If Rajil knew the truth, and was in this room, Dysus could only imagine how funny he would find this. But when he looked at his boss and mentor he saw someone who was dead serious. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, “No Sir, this was my choice, and it's something I really want to do.” Judging by the unfaltering look from his boss, his plan was slipping through his fingers, “I… i’m taking up dancing again.” He found himself saying in a low tone, his subvocals thrumming with a mix of defeat and weariness. 

That got his attention, the only indication was the flaring of the elders’ mandibles before clapping against his jaw. Now Dysus couldn’t even  _ look _ at him, instead finding an interest in the carpeting below his feet. It was always so clean. Qui’in took such a weird pride in this particular carpet. 

“Dysus, I think you are a proud member of this company, and I appreciate you not taking the deals of my competitors and leaving us here to suffer.” Dysus lifted his head to meet the gaze of a Turian in his own thoughts now, probably reflecting on the many times Dysus would tell him of the offers he received for another manufacturing company- that he always declined. His eyes were softer now too, “You always do your job, you’ve never even taken a sick day. And you put a lot of work into this…” He turned in his chair back to the schedule, “If you think you can do it, then I believe you.” 

Dysus perked up in his chair, clamping down on his subvocals from expressing hope. But he wasn’t done yet. “I have high hopes for you here, just don’t kill yourself over it. What is it humans say?  _ ‘Don’t put all your yogurt in one basket _ ’” Qui’in stood from his chair and offered an arm. “What do you want me to tell the others?” 

Dysus had no idea about the human saying, but he wasn’t going to question it. He stood from his chair a little too quickly and clasped his hand over his forearm near the elbow, a Turian sign of trust. 

“I’m telling Raj you're having me overseeing the factories.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone listen to or see the musical they're doing? I'm OBSESSED. Comment if you figured it out ;)


	3. The Sparkling Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week one going well. Now time for a little get together....

_Five-six-seven-eight: step, step, twist, back, legs-and-turn-_

He tried not to move, just waiting for the machine in front of him to dispense the one thing he wanted this morning. His thoughts on repeat running the steps in his head, his brain was the only thing that didn’t currently hurt. 

_Five-six-seven-eight: step, step, twist, back, legs-and-turn-_

It was official, Dysus hasn’t done this much physical work since boot, and maybe that one mission when he was a Lieutenant. Even his scheduled times at the gym or the Armax Arsenal Arena with the guys barely prepared him for this first week. 

The machine gurgled, he blinked, for the first time in a few long minutes. A smell of hot, strong kava came over him as the liquid spewed into his thermos. Behind him in the break room some of his coworkers were discussing their current assignments. He couldn’t stay to chat with them, he had just come to the office for some of his datapads and to distribute the news to his contract partners before heading to the factory. He checked the time; he was right on schedule. 

_step, step, twist, back, legs-and-turn-_

“Dysus!” An arm shot wildly out of the corner of his vision, slapping him behind his cowl as its connected body collided into his side. Dysus stiffened, holding back a groan of all the muscles shaken by the movement, letting out tiny silent screams. He opted to close his eyes instead, letting the pain subside. Rajil, of course, didn’t notice. “I’ve barely seen you all week with the new assignment, how’s it going? Does this mean you’re getting that promotion my uncle talked about?” 

It took more effort than needed for Dysus to not cringe as his muscles slowly relaxed. “It’s not a promotion Rajil, just some shifting around for a while.” Still he did not take his arm off, the minor extra weight now an annoyance. 

“Please, he’s been dodging me on the subject, probably didn’t want me to be upset that I won’t see you as much, which I _don’t_.” He emphasized, giving off a dramatic sigh before finally releasing him from the grasp. Dysus almost laughed at the notion, Rajil could be a good actor. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter next to the machine, “The office is already fucking depressing when you're not there.” 

“Glad I make it a comfortable place for you.” He quipped back, watching the last drops plop into the drink before cupping the thermos in his hands. 

A new sudden thought came to Rajil's mind, “Hey! Lyla and I are staying in tonight. Why don’t you stop by? Im making my Mari's deep dish,” He coaxed, knowing they shared the same favorite meal. It was tempting, it was incredibly odd how noticeable it was to not see Rajil on a daily basis. 

“Im working late tonight.” Dysus deflected, taking his thermos in his hands. 

Rajil was uncharacteristically quiet to that before putting on his 'manager' voice, “Look, if you need another afternoon off or something, I can talk to Qui’in-” 

He wasn't sure what made his friend say that, maybe the hard work was already showing? “Im fine, I promise. I gotta get to the factory to check on their manifest.” 

That seemed to appease him a bit; Rajil's mandibles flickered to the side, "Alright, just don't kill yourself, I know _I_ want to when I talk to them.” He tried to joke, speaking of the managers Dysus was now going to be directly talking to for Spirits knows how long. Rajil was right about one thing, they could be very dry people. 

"Sure. And thanks Rajil." They fell into an awkward silence, besides that of the group around the water station now chatting about their weekend plans. Rajil was staring at him almost as if wanting to say something else. "Was there something else Raj?" He asked wearily, starting to make his way towards the door. Rajil pushed away from the counter to follow suit. 

"No.. don’t _you_ have anything to tell me?” 

He nearly stopped in his tracks, "No? I don't think so?" 

A part of the real Rail peeked through as he began baiting, "Oh really? _Nothing_ to share?" 

What was he getting at? Did he know? 

Leaving the break room behind his friend put a hand on his shoulder so they could pause outside the doorway. “A particular ‘you told me so’ maybe?” Rajil looked slightly uncomfortable now, giving him an odd searching look mixed with sympathy. When he didn’t answer Rajil made an exasperated sigh, “Don’t play dumb Dysus; I’m only giving this opportunity to you once. So go on and say it if it will make you feel better.” 

Oh. That. Dysus took another sip of his drink, the pick-me-up already coursing through his veins. “I’m not going to say it Rajil. Your pride is safe, for now.” 

Rajil blinked in surprise, but came to his own grin when Dysus gave him a joking smile. He lowered his voice as they made their way towards the elevator; the chatter of their coworkers fading in the distance, “Here I thought you were going to put me in my place.” 

“Well, you weren’t wrong,” Dysus began as they stepped inside the lift, “You said I could say it if I hated it.” 

“So what was it like?” Now that they were truly alone, Rajil could ask. He hasn’t said anything about it since the messages they sent each other. Dysus was expecting this confrontation earlier this week, and maybe if he hadn't changed is schedule, it would have already happened. 

“Crowded, confusing, no set of instructions of where to go or what to do.” He said plainly, the pre planned responses he had set away to tell him. 

“Were there a lot of humans?” 

“Yes. Some Asari were there though.” 

He hummed, “I wonder if Lyla knows anyone who went. I can ask her tonight.”

“It’s not important,” Dysus clutched his thermos a tad tighter. 

“No, but aren’t you curious.” He looked to Dysus and his expression changed, “Ah I mean- I know you didn’t get in-” 

“-But its caused some gossip on the Citadel, I get it.” He took his attention to the swil in front of him, “It looked disorganized, I doubt it will be a huge thing.” If Rajil set his mind to something, he will see it to the end. And Dysus didn't know Lyla’s friends or coworkers, he could very well be working with one of them, and then the connection would be made- if it wasn’t already. 

He hated lying to Rajil, and he debated on caving several times after his meeting with Qui’in. But in the end it was only the first week, and it was made very clear if he messed up- he could still get kicked from the production. A handful of dancers had already disappeared from the sign in sheet. And with how their instructor was teaching, Dysus could only assume they weren’t making the cut as hoped. He just needed more time, to make sure. Then he’d let Rajil yell at him for however long it took, then they would go back to normal. Well the new form of normal. 

The elevator descended and opened uninterrupted to the garage, “I could give you a lift if you want?” Rajil offered, holding the door opened as Dysus took a few steps forward. 

He shot his friend his best assuring grin, “I’ll be fine, perks of the swap: I get to use the company cruiser.” This indeed was a perk, a surprising one, but Qui’in made it clear it was easier than all the time wasting waiting for a public transport or even hailing a shuttle. Dysus assumed it was also make things just vaguely easier for him, as long as he returned it before going home for the night he would be fine. 

Rajil held the door open a moment longer, before giving him a nod, “Alright. I’ll see you later?” 

Dysus nodded back as the door began to close, “Later.” 

Dysus, once alone, made his way to the closest cruiser, one of the older cruisers of simpler design. Nothing fancy, just to get him from point A to point B and not grab any attention. He also chose this one because no one else liked to use it, the seats creaked and there was an odd smell from when one of the senior employees had a red sand addiction. Tossed in the back trunk was his gym bag, he took out a small food bar before re-closing the trunk, hopped in the front and started the cruiser. 

_Five-six-seven-eight: step, step, twist, back, legs-and-turn-_

He went over the steps a few more times before coming to the factory deep in the wards just passed the ship docks twenty minutes later. 

Dysus went through security, made his way into the office within the main factory, and spoke to one of the head contractors. 

Then he blinked. And suddenly it was 1040, his thermos was empty, and he had rehearsal in ten minutes. 

~♫~

Dancing rehearsals were blocked differently than the rest to his knowledge. He and the other main dancers were put in a completely different space for preparations. While the actors got the closed off room they did auditions in, they were lucky to get a room with windows. That was made a necessity, and based on how read through went- Dysus could figure out why. 

Long days have already passed and Dysus was able to distract himself from the worries of his normal life. When he was told to do something, he did it the best he could. The instructor, a strict older human woman with a cane she used to knock at his spurs to adjust his stance, had to make adjustments for his physiology of the choreo. The Asari could adjust far better than he could, but he never let it stop him. He was even able to have polite conversation with his peers. He met Hailey, the Understudy for Satine, who was also a main dancer, and someone he was going to be ‘spending a lot of time with’. He had yet to be told what that meant. So far she's kept her distance, except to 'explain' things to him. Constantly. When she told Dysus what a 'lineup' was he wanted to laugh in her face. 

An'la, an Asari, and also the only Asari playing a named role: some character named Nini, had been placed with the dance group for the time being. An'la was obviously just within the range of her maiden stage still, not quite so naive, but trying very hard to act older than she probably is. She was beautiful, light blue skin that darkened around the frame of her face, she didn't even have any marks on her face yet. She had a better grasp of these rehearsals, more than he did at least. 

As they lined up and went straight into the second half of the new choreography, Dysus tried to focus on his footwork. For the first dance they have him staying in the back most of the time. He knew it was mostly because of the major height difference, but he also didn’t blame the instructor for keeping him at bay. Dysus didn’t mind, he got to dance again. Even if it was by himself behind everyone else, something he was used to when he started hiding it away. It left him still exhausted and breathless, but like a drug, he was already hooked again. 

A few times they had to stop for ‘cultural’ lessons on what they were doing, obviously more or less for the aliens in the room. No one said anything, but that was obviously what it was.

Towards the end of the day's rehearsal Hopkins poked her head in, whispering a few words to their instructor, who nodded. Hopkins scanned the room, her eyes falling on him. 

“Dysus, Ne’line would like to see you when you’re done. She’ll be in the rehearsal room downstairs.” The rest of the room stared at him, and he could only nod his head, wondering if he had already done something wrong. 

As they began cooling down and getting their things together, Dysus couldn’t help but overhear the more-than-normal excitement chatter of the rest of the dancers. When he slung his bag over his shoulder he turned to face the Asari dancer An'la knitted her hands together behind her back and leaned forward just the slightest, giving him a clear view of her chest. 

“Hey Dysus, are you coming tonight?” A series of whispers rose up a few feet away as if trying to shush her.

Dysus adjusted the bag on his shoulders, “To what?” 

Undeterred by the group of humans, An'la stood up a little taller, “The cast is getting together tonight to watch the movie.”

“Movie?” He hadn’t heard about this. 

“Oh sorry, I mean Vid- humans called them movies sometimes.” Noticing his confusion she frowned, “Everyone was invited?” 

From over her shoulder, one of the male dancers cleared his throat, “That was at the read-through, I think he left right before the announcement.” He looked up to Dysus, his face unwavering, “But you can come if you want.” 

Hailey, who was once nowhere, suddenly apparated into the conversation “The leads made plans to have everyone come over and watch the movie the musical is from.” She began as if monologuing, “Its not the same as the musical, there are different songs and the plot is slightly different. And I mean you need to do your research on the role, even if you _are_ just an understudy. We probably will never even get our chance.” The group looked around at each other awkwardly, Hailey giving a specific look towards An'la. Dysus felt a need to leave this conversation, tensions were here he didn’t know what to do about. He gave his attention back to An'la, still looking towards him waiting for an answer, 

“I’ve got a lot of work to do…” 

She visibly deflated, looking away, “Oh.” 

“Alright, see ya.” 

“Whatever.” 

"You can do it after? Or you can get it done quick before?" Hailey began suggesting, shifting her weight on her other leg as if anchoring herself to the floor until he responded. 

Dysus assured them he was busy (which he was), and didn’t pay them any mind after that, instead heading out of the dance room and down the creaky stairs to meet with Miss Junn. 

He peeked inside the now empty room, spotting her in the circle of chairs, reading a datapad on her lap. She heard him coming in and looked up. 

“Miss Junn- uh, Ne’line, you wanted to see me?” 

She waved him in, standing to her feet, “Yes, Dysus, I spoke to Amy and Lorenzo about your position as an understudy. I would like to get a head start on your singing rehearsals.” 

Dysus came to a stop in respectable distance from her, tugging at the strap of his bag. “Uh, singing, ma’am?” An odd weight plopping in the pits of his stomach. 

She smiled, “Yes, if something comes up and you need to perform, you have to be prepared to do the role just as well as the original cast.” 

Right. Understudy. That made sense, “But i’m not much of a singer.” 

Ne’line lowered the datapad to her side, gesturing with her other hand, “Maybe not now, but Britton and I both agree there’s potential, I think there’s a way we can make it work. I know your schedule is tight, so Amy and I organized your schedule so you had as much time as the rest of the principles. I will send you an updated schedule splitting your time between dancing, cast scene rehearsals, and your private vocal rehearsals.” 

Great, another thing to pencil in his schedule. What did he have to lose? It's not like this was up for debate. “Of course ma- Ne’line.” 

She caught his near mistake, but did not point it out, “Good. You have done great work so far, better than others.” The crossed off names of the sign in sheet flashed in his mind. She took a breath to change the tone of the conversation, “I hope you are going to the gathering tonight? Did young An'la invite you?”

Dysus’s mandibles flared out in surprise, “How did you-?”

The beautiful Asari laughed, “Gossip flies like fire around here, you’ll get used to it.” Dysus’s previous answer of not going tonight must have shown on his face, because she lowered her voice and took a small step closer, “Give them a chance Dysus, and they will you. I dated a Turian once, you can all be so stubborn.” Dysus shot her a look, one that wouldn’t even break a barrier. “What would he say? Call it ‘recon’,” She smiled again, “If anything, the vid will help you get into character. Correct?” 

Tactically, this was sound. Dysus nodded, “I suppose.” 

“Good. I’m sure you will be one of the responsible ones tonight.” She sighed, turning to bend down and pick up a side bag pull of papers, “Have fun, be safe. And I will see you tomorrow.” She gave him a polite nod before exiting the room, leaving him in silence. 

After he returned the cruiser and took the shuttle home, Dysus hopped in the shower. 

It was clear there was still some animosity towards him, so why invite him at all? Was there a secret objective? 

Not he was starting to sound like the Turian on the transport. 

Or his dad. 

He doubted the humans were planning anything, there was nothing to gain from it- right? Maybe they expected him not to go? Whatever the reason, this vid was the key to get more in tune with the show. There was nothing wrong with him stopping by and seeing what the big deal was about it. His translation of the script did have some issues here and there that might need context, and he hasn’t seen Greg since the read-through to ask, as he was the only one open to answering his many many questions. Well that and maybe-

No, _she_ didn't need to be dragged into this. 

Once out of the shower he dried himself off and found himself standing naked in front of his closet. What would he even wear? It was a gathering, but they made it seem like some sort of party. 

Well anything they did sounded like a loud, annoying, party. 

He settled for the closest thing to ‘casuals’ he had; a dark grey long sleeve tunic with slim white trim and dark pants. It was just a bit nicer than his gym clothes and not what he wears to the office. 

He checked the time, at the same time seeing the notification of a separate email with the invitation, as well as the address of the place. It wasn’t at the rehearsal space, it seemed to be at one of the cast members’s house. The replies and responses were popping up so fast he couldn’t figure out whose. Some people mentioned bringing booze, or food. Dysus froze, should he bring something? 

He rummaged through his cabinets, not sure if humans would like asari food, and all his snacks were dextro. He swore under his breath, checking to see that the time had flown by and the approximate start time was approaching. 

Sighing, he took out his leftovers from the night before, grabbed a utensil, and headed out the door. 

~♫~

Before the shuttle even set down he had scarfed down his food, tossing the container in a nearby incinerator before boarding. His Omni-Tool would not. Stop. Beeping. For the next eleven minutes until someone finally emailed to save the conversation for the actual party. 

He blocked more incoming emails from that particular chain just in case, instead using his transit to read his work emails, catching up on some work he should be doing instead of this random exploit. 

He nearly missed his stop while mid sentence of a response he needed to send out to someone from accounting. It was incredibly late, the street of this neighborhood in the wards wasn't exactly of nice stature. He wouldn't call this a nice neighborhood by far, it was just a good thing he always carried. 

Following the street numbers, he made his way down another block or so, coming across another set of scrappy, lesser maintenanced apartment complexes. 

There was movement in front of the building, and he froze, his first thought hoping it wasn't An'la waiting around to see if he'd show up. The second thought when the figure as male was that this wasn't some joke and the person was a criminal. 

Instead as he got closer to the front entrance, the figure looked up, and a familiar face lit up upon recognizing him. 

“Oh shit, you came!” 

Dysus, a little annoyed, clamped his mandibles to his face, “Is that a problem?” 

Greg, this time wearing a pair of grey baggy pants and a sleeveless dark hoodie, backpedaled immediately, “Oh, no man! Sorry I'm just surprised is all!” he smoothed over, ruffling his hair nervously, “Sorry if it came off that way. You just didn’t say anything in the email. I hoped to see you! This is going to be ah-mazing, come on in!”

Dysus unclenched his fists, it's been a long day, he didn’t mean to appear so aggressive. Maybe a night out was what he needed. He was about to summon a sort of apology when Greg led him up the stairs, speaking over his shoulder as they walked, 

“Soooo how's your first week of theatre?” He asked, completely over the snap on Dysus’s behalf. 

The topic change was welcome in this situation, “Well, with all things considered. I’m not quite sure people like me.” 

“Eh, it’ll pass. Actors can be weird. I’m glad the dancers didn’t scare you off, they can be _crazy_.” 

“I don’t understand,” Dysus began, but Greg simply laughed. 

“Theatre is complicated. It can have its cliques, its groups. The divas and the assholes. Don't you guys have that?” 

“No, not really. We function by our tier, but that's more of respect for whoever is above us.”

Greg hummed in thought as they rounded another flight, “People here just think they're above others, but in truth, we are all working together for the same thing. No one is better than anyone else, there are just some people with more authority. So it's kinda like you Turians.” Dysus wasn’t sure he could agree at the moment, but they had come to stop in front of a door, which was actually vibrating from a loud beat pulsing within. “Here we are, the leads' crib.” 

“Wait, who exactly lives here?” 

“The lead actors all live here.” He nonchalantly answered, reaching for the handle. 

Dysus opened his mouth to question it, but was cut off as he swung open the door.

~♫~

“Hey Nichole! Where did you put the paper plates?” 

“They’re still on the table,” Nichole called out, popping open the bag in her hands and dumping the chips into a bowl. She was in a bit of a rush, it was supposed to be a simple gathering, but then the topic of food and drinks came up, and it was only fair as a proper hostess to make sure there was enough to have a good time. So she and her roommates made a mad dash to the nearest open store for emergency supplies. It was supposed to be just the principles getting together tonight, but then _someone_ invited the ensemble and dancers and that doubled the headcount. 

“You’re making that face,” Kyle chided from the small table of their apartment, taking out the plates and unwrapping them to put out for the guests. 

She blew out a gust of air towards the strand of hair on his forehead, “I don’t mind having more people, but a heads up would have been nice? And why did Rico tell them? He knows Lorenzo told us we can’t have a huge gathering here because of the landlord.” 

“You know Rico, not the best with keeping things on the down low.” Kyle offered as the simple reply. 

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Nichole assured mostly herself, taking the bowl and skipping around the counter to slide it on the table, moving back around in a circle to start mixing a punch for everyone. “Just gotta make sure we aren’t too loud.” 

“I’ll let you play the bad guy then.” Kylie laughed, his omni-tool vibrating with a notification. He looked at his wrist and frowned, Nichole popped open one of the bottles of vodka and paused before pouring. 

“Something wrong?” 

“I got a message from one of the guys in dance, he said the Asari playing Nini invited that Turian.” 

Nichole, not seeing exactly the problem, began pouring the drink into the large bowl, “Ok?...Does this bother you?” 

He snapped up to look her in the eye, “Does it not bother you?” 

She shrugged, “I don’t see why it should? He’s one of the dancers, and your-”

“Don’t. Say it.” He interjected, pointing a finger towards her. She shrugged again and went back to making sure the last drop was savored before opening a jar of juice. Kyle has been on edge about the whole ‘understudy’ thing lately. Even now he looked visibly agitated, placing the palms of his hands on the edge of the table and slumping a bit. Nichole stopped, put the jar down, and moved over towards him. She slipped an arm around his back in a slight hug, 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” He said, combing his hand through his long dark hair. When he turned to look at her, his hazel eyes had some mischief in it, “You missed me, right?” He suddenly asked. 

Nichole detached her arm from him and went to take a step away, but a hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her there. She swallowed, “Of course I did, but I knew you were going to be fine.” 

His thumb rubbed her hand in a lazy back and forth motion, “That didn’t make it any easier.” 

“I know.” She conceded, not sure exactly what else to say. They had this conversation, two years ago. She thought they had passed this. 

He moved closer to her, taking her other hand in his, “Do you think we could..maybe...pick up where we left off?” His voice was a whisper of yearning, some sort of desire she remembered in her dreams. 

She bit her lip, “Kyle…” 

“Just think about it ok? We were good, you and me.” 

Nichole could hear footsteps approaching the door and decided to nod her head, “I’ll consider it, but this show is really important to Lorenzo...” Kyle frowned, turning back to the bag on the table to fish out the cups to put out. 

“Yeah yeah, he’ll get his show. I mean, he has the best as the leads.” he shot her a snarky grin that she couldn’t help but copy. 

“We’ll kick ass. I got a good feeling about this cast.” As Kyle’s posture stiffened, probably because he was thinking of the Turian, Nichole put on her defense, “Just behave ok?” She pleaded, returning to her station at the counter to finish the punch as the door flew open, crashing against the wall with a loud _crack_.

“I. Have arrived.” 

“You get the vid Greg?” Nichole laughed, completely unfazed by the young man.

Greg blew a raspberry, in his other hand carrying two bottles wedged between different fingers. “Course I got it. Anniversary edition! With sing along options. Let's get this party started!”

Kyle shuffled over to take the bottles before Greg dropped them. Nichole grabbed the wooden spoon and began stirring her concoction, 

“Pop it in but we have to wait for the others to arrive.” 

“Sure thing hun,” he saluted, hopping to the Tv in their ‘common area’ of the apartment, playing with the devices to set up the vid. 

“And Greg, Rico is out grabbing some more snacks, could you go down and wave people in in case they get lost?” 

“Yes Ma’am!” He shouted, just as a familiar theme began loudly blasting throughout the house, Nichole had to cover her ears with a slight squeak escaping her mouth. 

“GREG!” 

“YEP!” He replied, stabbing a remote repeatedly until the music level went down enough for the ringing to subside in their ears. Greg stood up in front of the screen, his hands on his hips. Nichole did not know Greg very long, but she could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. He raised a single hand above his head, “Sorry about that.” 

She laughed, shoving the various snacks to all fit on the table as Greg stole a single chip before walking out the door to flag people down. They would be arriving soon. 

She ran to her room and quickly threw on something nicer to wear. It wasn’t a formal deal by any means, but she wanted to make a good impression on everyone. A commotion of new voices reached her ears and she figured people had begun to arrive. She checked herself in the mirror, rubbing her fingers through her scalp to fluff her long brown hair. A soft knock at her door and it was Kyle, two cups in his hands. 

“Hey you ready?” 

She gave him a smile, smoothing her pencil skirt and strapless top, “How do I look?” 

His smile got wider, “Hot as always. Still keeping in shape.” He offered her a cup, which she took, and they made their way to the party. 

~♫~

It was technically a half hour before the start time, but when you live with five other people and are prepped and ready, hot gossip about their fellow castmates was the best way to pass the time. Nichole was thankful the guys allowed her to bunk with them, otherwise she’d have to seek out other roommates to afford anything on the Citadel. Lorenzo was kind enough to help them find someplace affordable for all of them. He had a studio apartment in the same building, and the techies from Earth shared their own apartment in the next building over she believed. Sitting around the living room area was herself sandwiched between Kyle and an empty spot Greg had vacated to flag down the coming guests. Around her was Richard, Charles, and Rico wildly discussing the hot fresh gossip. Being the only woman, she found it funny how experienced they were with the sin. 

“Has anyone else noticed Victoria has been flirting with Niles…” 

“You saw that too! Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, she told me, and I know he knows that.”

“That’s messed up.” 

“How long until you think they sleep together?” 

“A month, maybe.”

“Oh no, definitely a week at most.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

“Ten credits says so.” 

“Niles seems like a real prick. He kept asking me ‘how long until we can leave’.” 

“Wow. Asshole.” 

Nichole watched Rico and Richard bicker back and forth on the traditional ‘who’s gonna hook up with who’ pool. It was bound to change weekly; and she knew she would hear about it one way or another. After a few more minutes the door opened and a small group of the ensemble members began to trickle in. With this however, the subject rapidly changed to the basic opinion of how things were starting off. It was a good way to get to know the cast members and see what else could be dug up. 

“The Auditions were insane! Did a lot of people get cut?” 

“I heard someone didn’t put down their contact info and that's why they weren’t casted.” 

“Couldn’t we get anywhere else to rehearse? That place is sketchy.”

“I don’t feel safe walking there by myself.” 

“There's no ventilation, and I swear I saw one of the neighbors watching me as I left.” 

It was still early, a lot of people had yet to show up, the dancers were probably pre-gaming for whatever reason. No matter, once an established alliance is made between principle character actors and ensemble members, the topic turns back to brewing gossip. 

Nichole noticed her Understudy, Hailey, had showed up with her own personal flask, already buzzed, and eager to dive right into the dirty laundry, 

“The dancers have been talking shit about you guys, is it true you were pre-casted?” She looked at them wildly, searching each of their faces for some sort of confirmation. 

This was a sore subject. Nichole was a victim of this rumor once before; it wasn't a surprise people would think this. For the first time in a few minutes she felt the need to speak up and set the record straight, “Lorenzo has worked with some of us before yes, but that means he knows what we can do. We went through the audition process like everyone else.” 

Charles, the more seasoned actor who has worked on Lorenzo’s shows for years, adjusted his spot in the side chair, “Nichole’s right, Lorenzo isn’t biased. That Turian is an understudy,” He pointed out, taking a swig from his beer. 

One of the human ensemble members spoke up from her place on the floor, “You don’t think he’s a publicity stunt?” 

‘What do you mean?” 

Nichole perked her head up, everyone seemed to have an opinion about the black sheep of the company. She politely sipped her drink.

Kyle, unsurprisingly, answered them while tapping a finger on the side of his cup, “It looks better for marketing if the cast is diverse, equality and whatnot.” 

“Do you honestly think he could be any good? 

Rico lifted a hand to catch their attention, “I was in his audition block. He's not bad.” 

Nichole opened her mouth before she could think, “Really?” 

All eyes were on the buff man now as he took a gulp of his drink, tossing a pretzel in the air so it dropped in his mouth, “Yeah dude got some serious potential. I’m sure Lorenzo already has a gameplan.” 

“Hailey, you’re in the same dance block, he any good?”

“I don't know, I don't get to see him, they put him in the back.” 

“He’s quiet though from what I hear.”

“Hey...You think he bribed Lorenzo to get in the show?”

The group went quiet. 

“Why would you think that?” 

“I mean Lorenzo isn’t exactly loaded, it took him forever to get the permits to do the show in the first place. A turian offers to help pay if he gets a part…” 

“I doubt it.”

“Lorenzo wouldn’t do that,” Rico stood to his feet to make his way to the table for another handful of snacks. 

“I overheard them after I talked to the stage manager about a scheduling conflict,” Hailey brushed her shoulder length hair behind her, “Lorenzo was trying to make this work, you don't think he had some influence at all?” She was asking Nichole this, why she felt the need to target her on this opinion was beyond her. She opened her mouth to repeat the same thing Rico said. 

“I-” 

The front door burst open again, gently this time, but the same energy of Greg burst through the doorway with a sing-song voice saying, “Look who IIIIIIII found!” 

They all looked, and Nichole could feel the others having to change their tune, because to all their surprise, standing in their doorway was a seven foot tall Turian, the very Turian they were just talking about. 

Greg began ushering him in, more than happy to start pointing out where everything was like a private tour. Beside her Nichole heard Kyle give a soft growl under his breath, she smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand in retaliation, shooting him another look. “Behave.” She reminded him, deciding to be the bigger person and rising from her spot on the couch to greet their guest properly. As she approached the kitchen she could hear the Turian ask Greg, 

“This _was_ the starting time correct?”

“Yeah people are running late,” Greg assured him, which caused the Turian to tilt his head to the side, a very bird-like thing to do,

“But I thought-” He looked up at her approach, his question dying in his mouth. She gave him a smile, opening her mouth to say hello when-

“So, Dysus is it?” Kylie’s voice asked from behind her. Her smile stayed plastered to her face, in the back of her mind knowing that very tone meant trouble was brewing. 

Uneven footsteps approached from behind, an arm wrapping around her shoulders to balance a tipsy actor. “I heard you weren’t able to come tonight.” 

With eyes of cool fire the Turian seemed unfazed by the blunt tone. “I was able to move my schedule around.” 

“Well its nice to finally get the chance to talk to you. You're kinda quiet.” 

Nichole audibly gasped, “Kyle, he doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to.”

“I think you’ve had enough for now Kyle…” Greg went to try and stop Kyle from grabbing the ladle in the punch bowl, but he swatted the hand away, 

“I’m not drunk Greg. Just making sure our friend here didn’t bring any trouble.” 

Dysus looked around the room at the party set up, “I actually didn’t bring anything, just my stunning personality.” 

Nichole couldn’t help it, she snorted. Greg giving off a loud ‘HA’, and slapping his knees. When Kyle gave her a look, however, she muffled her laughs.

“Whatever. Join me on the couch Nichole.” 

“I’ll be there in a sec,” She assured him, watching him return to the group without a backwards glance. She looked back as Greg was grinning like an idiot. Then, the two of them burst into laughter. Dysus gave them an expression she couldn’t define, but those flaps on the side of his face were fluttering. She’s never seen that before. 

Greg wiped a metaphorical tear from his eye, “Damn you're a savage! I like it!” 

Nichole gave an apologetic look to Dysus, “I'm sorry about him, he’s already had a bit to drink.” 

“Its alright, nothing I can’t handle.”

The three of them fell into an awkward silence, for the first time in awhile, Nichole had no idea what to say. Thankfully the door swung open behind them as the rest of the party made their way in. By the way some of them were shouting she could tell a good handful were already at least tipsy. She twisted back to the guys, “I’m going to go greet them..” She pointed towards the group shouting loud hellos across the room. Greg nodded, 

“Yeah yeah, go. But don’t forget your boy-toy before he gets angry.” He joked, mimicking his face he made a minute ago with a downcast scorn. Nichole forced a chuckle, 

“Yeah yeah ok. Uh, feel free to grab whatever you want Dysus, we’re probably going to start the vid soon.” And with that, before he could reply, she turned around and dove into the mass of people. 

Kyle could be an ass, but he saved her seat on the couch for her return. They should have started the vid ten minutes ago, but people were still standing around enjoying the buffet of available booze. She caught some of the Asari really getting into the punch she had made. 

Eventually she had to project her voice towards the ceiling to ‘get your butts around the Tv we’re starting!’ watching as the masses began squeezing together in the living area. 

Greg squeezed next to her, pushing against her thighs whispering, “hey can you move over at all I told Dysus he could sit with me. The floor wouldn’t be very good for him.” 

“Oh yeah totally,” She agreed, tapping on Kyle’s arm to move over. Due to Dysus’s much larger frame, she could see him out of the corner of her eye past Greg. The first thing she noticed, was that he came empty handed. 

She leaned forward a bit, “Don’t you want anything to drink?” She asked him. 

The Turian seemed taken aback that she was talking to him, he started to say something when a flash of light blue popped in front of them. 

“There you are,” A voice said, holding out a cup to him, “I got you a drink.” 

Ah, well that takes care of that, Nichole felt relieved, settling back into her seat when the same flash of blue moved to stand directly in front of her. Nichole knew this was...An’la, the Asari playing Nini. As she stood over Nichole, she suddenly felt the desire to back away, if she wasn’t sitting down, she just might have. 

“He’s dextro, didn’t you know that?” She said with a small smile. “I figured you guys wouldn’t have anything for him, so I bought a wine safe for both dextros and levos,” An’la shot another look to Dysus, then around the room, then back to Dysus, shifting closer to him, “Hey Dysus, there’s not enough room, could I sit with you?” 

Nichole almost couldn’t breathe, she looked around her general vicinity to realize that, with most people chatting away or adjusting the settings of the vid to play, she was the only one noticing this obvious thirst happening no more than two feet away from her. Even Greg had crawled out of his spot to help Rico with the Tv. Kyle was speaking to someone sitting on the floor off the armrest, leaving Nichole to be the only witness. 

She watched Dysus with curiosity. The Asari may be buzzed at the least. The Turian seemed to search for backup as well, his eyes connecting right with her own. 

A look of desperation could be recognized across any species she guessed. 

Unsure how she could possibly help, Nichole gave him a strained smile and awkward shrug, shaking her head just the slightest. Dysus took a breath, giving a nod of submission to the blue woman. 

He moved to try and make room for her as much as he could allow, but NOPE, An’la turned her body and sat in what little space he began to make, her legs coming up to lay on top of his lap. 

“Alright everyone shut up! Time for the Vid!” 

The lights darkened and they hit play. 

Nichole has seen this movie dozens of times. It was one of her favorites since she was a little girl, so no one would mind, or notice, if she wasn’t exactly watching with everyone else, she instead stole some glances to the Turian on her left. 

She had to hand it to him, he had guts. That much was proven already, from surviving a theatre audition, to showing up to rehearsals, and gosh this _party_. Nothing about him screamed ‘extravert’; her peers were right about one thing: he has been fairly quiet so far. And even now, an Asari woman on his lap, he made no move on her. At least Nichole didn’t think so. He put his hands in places so she wouldn’t fall off, not in any sort of ‘danger danger grab’ way. She would giggle and whisper to him, and he seemed...disinterested? But polite? 

It was more fascinating than the movie. 

She never really met a Turian longer than she’s had him in her presence. She met a few via security when moving to the Citadel, and up until now she thought all turians were the same ashen pale grey color. They all seemed stoic and stiff, nothing about them ever screamed _Theatre_.

Dysus was different. His...shelling? Was a color of earthy brown, like her hair, except- when the screen flashed bright white lights- she could see a slight _slight_ hint of red. Not _maroon_ , not quite _rouge_. Not like the lines on his face. 

Everyone cheered as a character was introduced, and she joined them with a raise of her glass, taking several gulps. The alcohol burned her throat, igniting in her stomach. 

Mahogany! That was more his coloring, she realized, laughing to herself again as she peeked over to confirm it- when she realized the Turian of question was now staring at her with his head cocked to the side. Fuck, she must have been staring, and now he must think she was laughing at him. He didn’t say anything, just looking at her with these bright eyes piercing through the shadowed darkness. She looked away awkwardly, finding a sudden interest in the muddied color of her drink, and didn’t look back at him for the rest of the vid. Instead the cast all took advantage of the ‘sing along’ portion, blasting the music of the vid with near eprfect harmony, one that began to quickly decline with the addition of more alcohol. 

It was in the start of the second act when one of the most hardcore awesome songs came on, and everyone had to sing it. Now completely off key, and off beat, it felt like more of a sea of goats attempting to communicate than theatre people singing.

In the fog of her laughter Nichole barely heard the sudden, loud knocking on her front door, followed by the most terrifying words one could hear: “CSec, open up!” 

Everyone immediately shut up, some quietly opening their mouths in amused shock. 

“Oh shiiiit.” Someone said, looking at all the bottles of booze scattered around the room. Some of them started trying to hide the evidence, Nichole got to her feet, waving at Greg to follow her. 

Just as another knock rapped at the door she waved to Greg’s pocket, still thankfully able to function his motor skills, he took out a small bottle and she opened her mouth, allowing him to spritz the breath freshener, before spraying himself. Nichole shook herself and smoothed her hair before calmly (and cleanly) opening the door. 

She was met by a- of course- grey Turian, clad in dark blue and black Citadel Security armor uniform. She had to admit she definitely wasn’t in the best state right now, but mustered the strength to say it, don’t spray it, and not to slur. “Yes,” She said a little _too_ politely, “Can I help you?” 

The Turian had some sort of glowing device on his face covering one of his eyes, maybe it was an eye patch? “Ma’am, we received a call of a noise complaint. Are you having some kind of party here?” 

No eye patch. Not a Pirate. A cop. “Yes, I am so sorry, we are just watching a vid together,” Nichole explained, opening the door ajar to give the officer a better view. 

The officer peered inside. Nichole followed his gaze, which seemed to stop at Dysus on the couch. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, the room was spinning a little bit for Nichole, as dramatic effect. 

“We will keep it down.” Greg suddenly jumped in, startling Nichole as she gripped the doorframe tighter, realizing she almost fell over in the pause. 

The officer stood back to his full height, weighing his options. “Do that, and don't cause trouble. Call a shuttle for your friends after.” 

Nichole gave him one of her most innocent smiles, “Of course. Thank you officer.” 

And with that he nodded his head, and made his way down the hall. Not to bee suspicious, she gently, and casually closed the door. The second the lock clicked, everyone let out a sigh. 

“Woooo that was clo-”

“Shhhhhh!”

“We have to be quiet!”

“Shut up!”

Nichole sighed, this was going to be tough. The vid was almost over… then maybe everyone would be willing to just call it a night. Kyle snatched the remote from Rico, stabbing at the volume button complaining about ‘the fucking neighbors’, and Nichole sluggishly made her way back to the couch. Then her eyes somehow made it back to Dysus, who was looking at her with the oddest expression. When she slowly sat back on the couch, he cleared his throat. 

“Nicely done. I really thought the party was over for a second.”

“Wouldn’t you have liked that?” She smiled back, nodding to the now sleeping Asari still in his lap. 

Dysus gave a soft hum, “Huh, maybe its not too late to call him back?” 

Nichole laughed, having to cover her mouth by the sea of ‘shhhuuuusshhhhh’es from the rest of the room. They settled back in, playing the rest of the vid, everyone now too worn and too tired to bother singing. Just some sloppy drunken whispers. When it ended, cast members began peeling their friends off the floor, calling for rides. 

Thankfully, another Asari had a shuttle to take back An’la, to which Dysus offered to carry her to. 

Zombies began shuffling out the door, waving their thanks and being shushed in the process, and laughing to themselves at having to shush themselves. Greg took Dysus’s cup and thanked him for coming. The Turian gave a nod similar to the CSec officer, and told them this, 

“Thank you for opening up your home for this...event.” 

“Door’s always unlocked.” The words slipped from her mouth instantly. She froze, unsure why she told him that. She barely knew this guy, or even if he cared to hang out with them. 

Unwavered by her slip, he nodded again. “Noted. Have a good night Nichole, Greg,” With that he carried the Asari after the last of the group, Greg closing the door behind them. 

Dramatically, Greg pressed his back to the door and slid down a few inches with a deep sigh, “Well, what a party huh?” 

“Yeah, a big messy one.” She noted, turning to see the tornado aftermath of their apartment. On the couch was a sprawled Charles hugging his aged whiskey bottle to his chest, snoring softly. 

Greg yawned, “Yeah that’s a tomorrow problem.” 

She chuckled, “Tomorrow it is. Thanks for your help Greg.” 

He bent down to swipe at one of the discarded cups on the ground, tossing it in the incinerator as they passed the kitchen. “No problem Nichole. I hope we get to see Dysus more, I mean, you _did_ tell him we usually keep our door unlocked.” 

At that moment the alcohol decided to do an after burn, causing heat to rise on her cheeks, she averted her gaze so he wouldn’t see. 

“Just being friendly.” 

“Oh yeah, friendly, but wait until I try first.” Greg placed a palm against the hallway as they came across their shared room. Nichole held back as her new friend dragged himself to the far side of the room and plopped down on one of the air mattresses on the floor. She swayed a bit to her single bed against the opposite wall. Slowly she began to step out of her skirt without losing her balance.

“You? A Turian?” 

“Well I wouldn’t mind knowing what it’s like...all those muscles...” Greg groaned, his voice muffled in his pillow.

Nichole hiked up a pair of her sleeping shorts and crawled into bed. 

“Let me know how that goes,” She yawned, finding amusement in the lofty young man. 

“Just don’t tell anyone…” A softer voice came through after what felt like several minutes of silence. “Especially Kyle…” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” She murmured, her eyelids fluttering long enough to see Greg turn to his side, before immediately falling asleep. 

Besides, Dysus seemed like a really…..nice looking…. _no_ nice, just nice…..nice…..

~♫~

When Dysus returned to his empty apartment alone, he didn’t bother to change before crawling into bed. 

All he could think about was the way she smelled. He had taken the shuttle home wondering if the Asari drink was actually stronger than he anticipated to give him the light buzz. It had to be, and therefore he underestimated the Species’s liquor. Usually the lights weren’t as bright as they normally would be when having that brand of drinks, nor did it enhance his sense of smell like it was tonight, and why- sitting so close- is how he kept smelling something sweet, but not overpowering. It intoxicated him, yet he could still breathe freely. It distracted him from most of the vid, more than the passed out Asari on his lap. 

Dysus learned a lot tonight, about the show, the character he had to learn for, the humans... it was a lot to take in. And Nichole, she actually talked to him again. He couldn’t figure out why, or why he didn’t mind. Then he smelled her, and what was it? A flower maybe? He had spent too much time trying to figure it out, he didn’t notice until it was too late she was staring at him staring at her. At that point the vid was a welcome distraction. 

It was to much to assume that a night out would ease peoples suspicions of him, a lot of the looks were still the same, the booze just made people speak up a bit more. He was asked a lot of questions as expected. There were also the passive aggressive accusations by Kyle. It wasn’t anything new to deal with, he had spent long enough time with Rajil to know how to brush off snarky attitudes. By then there was Nichole and Greg, who looked at him like lifelong acquaintances. No looks of suspicion or disgust, and when they sat together on the couch, unlike most humans, they weren’t afraid of him. 

He didn’t have to worry about being liked, he was here to work, this was another job. He shook himself of his previous thoughts; the night out was for research purposes, like Ne’line suggested. Greg and Nichole were just welcome conversations. 

As his foggy mind began to slow down, the embrace of sleep covered him like a blanket. 

The first off duty time with them and he almost got poisoned, watched twenty something humans drunkenly singing along to an old vid, got grappled by an Asari... 

And CSec showing up? What was he getting himself into?

His last thought was of that very scene, a small human woman with long brown fringe, standing defiantly despite her weary state in front of a Turian officer, smoothing over the mess of drunken adults in a small room.

How amusing it was, that even then she was never afraid. 


	4. Shut up and Raise your Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to take a second and thank everyone for their kind words and support of this work; it really means a lot.

A few weeks have passed since the vid viewing. Other offers of outings were made to him, but Dysus decidedly remained aligned with his many many duties. Dancers were now being implemented into scene rehearsals, and when they weren’t he was still present- sitting in to keep track of Christian’s ‘blocking’ of the scenes. It was all very overwhelming to him to think about, that he was expected to go to a particular place at a particular time on a specific line. Some kept assuring him it was easier than it looked, others assured him he would probably never have to do it anyway. Hailey seemed to enjoy reminding him that; she was under this deep rooted impression that Understudies were treated like second class citizens and they probably would never get a chance to perform- meaning all preparations were a waste. 

There was no matter, Dysus still took his many notes, while simultaneously finishing up piling paperwork. A few times he has been able to sit through entire rehearsals while on a conference call playing into his ear canals.

Hopkins, Lorenzo, and Ne’line were always willing to answer his questions, and when they were busy, others have opened up just the slightest to him since the party. Greg has made it a constant to greet him even in passing. 

Out of all the responsibilities he had, singing was bottom of his list. 

The lessons began sporadically, he’d meet in a room no larger than a private armory, either with Miss Junn or John the Musical Director and man who played the keyboard at auditions. 

Difficult didn’t seem to begin to describe the process. It was supposed to be simple, learn the songs, but the two had something else in mind, going as far as giving him homework and exercises to embrace his biological potential. As a Turian he didn’t know what they meant, or what they were actually asking of him, but whatever he was doing now wasn’t what they wanted. 

The building where all this madness resided- now aptly named ‘The Pit’ by some of the cast members, was floors and floors of run down catastrophe. It was a near shame he had to come here every day, and when he had started his vocal lessons, it was at the worst part of the building: the bottom floor down a long skinny hallway he almost couldn’t fit through.

Desks and boxes were piled everywhere, the smell was musky and had poor circulation. This place was obviously not in any sort of proper use before Lorenzo came along; the wall paint was chipped and scratched from the abandoned furniture outside the rooms, the floors creaked, the walls were either too thin or had their own dense soundproofing. At the far end beneath a flickering light were four rooms, two on each side. He checked the time, he was five minutes early exactly. Voices were murmuring at the far right door, drawing him close. 

The door opened, and Rico, the larger human man playing Santiago, walked out with his eyes glued to a binder in his hands, murmuring to himself. Dysus evaded before the two would crash together in the already tight space. He looked up, startled, the two of them a meer inches apart as Dysus plastered himself with his back to the wall. Rico held a blank, unreadable gaze before murmuring with an exhale of, “ooohhhh that explains it.” 

When Dysus began asking what he meant, the door opened again, and Lorenzo poked his head out of the room, spotting Dysus immediately. 

“Ah! Right on time! Come in come in!” He waved, Rico taking the opportunity to give a sort of goodbye wave towards Lorenzo and squeezing past Dysus into the maze of a hallway. Dysus followed the director in, wondering why he was here this time.

He tiptoed his way inside, not expecting the size of the already small space somehow able to feel smaller. It was windowless, boxed stacked on each other in two of the corners, the far end was another of those large boxy instruments. “John is auditioning musicians today.” Lorenzo explained. “He is partially acting as the Musical director of the production, and will be coordinating the live orchestra. I wanted to bring our guest in and introduce you-” 

Besides the only splash of blue in the room behind the instrument, a deep purple blob stood beside her. There was a Turian woman in long robes standing quietly beside her, her eyes scanning him up and down.

“Now I will be leaving you in these capable hands. I have to check in with our Stage Manager.” And he was gone, flying out the door with a sharp pat on Dysus’s bicep. The man could never really stay in one place for long. 

Ne’line waved to her side, “Dysus, I’ve brought in someone who will be able to help more than I could. As I am not Turian, I don’t know the extent of your second larynx. This is Priestess Gaia from the Turian Temple here on the Citadel. I have asked her to come in and assist.” 

He raised a brow plate, “Ma’am?” 

The Priestess kept staring at him; Dysus kept his eyes on the Asari instead, “She is in charge of the temple’s chorus. She will be able to teach you to embrace your subvocals.”

The priestess spoke up, “Sub Vocals are a part of us from the beginning.” She tilted her head, revealing her face beneath the lip of her dark hood. The Priestess must have once been a beauty, and from the way she held herself he would have never thought of her in the latter years of her life; the only giveaway was the eroded edges of her ivory mandibles and slight cracking of her plates. “They are mainly involuntary, but with a set amount of control, the noises can support and amplify the very words you wish to convey, whether they are lyrics or not.”

The Turian glided towards him, her hands folded in front of her, “Miss Junn has sought me out to help you connect with the Spirits, and when you do, the noise you will make will be something more beautiful than anything in existence.” 

_No pressure or anything_ , Dysus added. He’s never met a priest or priestess of a Turian temple before. Their Order has gone out of style after an incident on Palaven, when the capitols temple was run by what he could only call a fanatic cult. He’s been to Temples before, when he was younger being forced to attend ceremonies involving his family clan. He couldn’t even remember what the chorus sounded like, it was an exposure that happened so long ago. 

“Now. Sing.” 

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.” 

His mind scrambled to think of something to do they’ve been working on. The easier ones? The one’s he still can't seem to remember? His audition song? Did she want to hear _Die for the Cause_? 

“Let’s start with some scales,” Ne’line gently suggested, her fingers pressing an ascension of keys, looking at him expectedly. She repeated the action before Dysus understood, opening his mouth to mimic the keys after she pressed them slowly. 

He has been exposed to a lot of what some of the dancers called ‘sugar coating’ from his many many mistakes and inability to rise to the level they wanted, but Gaia was beyond that sort of compassion because she visibly flinched. Ne’line took her hands off the keys and placed them in her lap. The Priestess’s sub vocals were silent, a disconcerting sign. “Spirits of Palaven, we have some work to do.” 

Ne’line could only nod in agreement. 

~♫~

When he left the small vocal room now knowing an abundance about the history of Turian singing and a string of file attachments on his Omni-Tool to read up on Turian autonomy of the throat, Dysus checked up for any messages from Hailey about meeting up to go over lines. So far it's mostly been ‘yeah totally we need to get together’ to-

His Omni-Tool beeped, speaking of which. 

H: _I won’t be able to meet up today. Something came up and i’m super tired._

There it was. Dysus closed his eyes and suppressed a low growl. How was he expected to be at his best for the production when his understudy partner does not cooperate? 

Another buzz of his Tool erupted as he sent out a polite reply about the possibility of rescheduling. 

R: _You coming to Chora’s tonight?_

For once, Rajil had good timing, it’s been a while since he had an outing with coworkers. He couldn't keep using the same excuses to get out of it, Rajil was incredibly persistent. Dysus might just need a drink after today.

D: _Should be able to._

He still had some time, he should probably drop by the factory and make sure the big order, the current project he was assigned by Qui’in specifically to oversee, was going along-

Another ping.

An Email this time from his contact at the factory.

_Mr Gracchus,_

_There was an incident today at the plant. One of our Mechs malfunctioned, damaging the part for the specialty order._

Oh no. oh nonono. Malfunction. Damaged part. Specialty order. And guess who had to let the client know about it? HIM. He kept reading hoping to find something that would make him stop clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. 

_Please let the client know on our behalf that we offer our sincerest apologies, and will make a rush order to get it done as soon as possible, but it will need an extension._

Those damned mechs were becoming more of a nuisance than they’re worth. He didn’t need to ask what happened, the mech either dropped the expensive and high tech piece part, or dropped it _and_ ran it over. Stupid machines. That part was for an important order for a very high end client Dysus didn’t need to meet to know the conversation about delay was going to end in disaster. 

“Waiting for someone?” A voice said, startling him out of his seething fury and dread. Dysus snapped his head up to realize he had yet to leave the dank hallway, and at the foot of the stairs was Lorenzo, casually leaning against the bent railing. Despite the temperature of the Citadel being constant, and the temperature inside the Pit always much warmer, he always wore some sort of long sleeved button shirt and a jacket on top. At his side was a messenger bag to hold all his dozens of datapads and binders for notes. 

Dyssus put away his Tool and fell into parade rest, out of habit to simultaneously push aside his frustration. “No Sir, I am finished for the day.” He felt his subvocals bleeding with censure while thinking about Hailey. 

“If you have nothing to do for the rest of the evening I could use some help at the docks.”

Dysus stared at the Director, wondering if this was a test of some sort. 

He waved his hand to beckon him over, “Come, you look like you need a distraction, and I could use the muscle.” 

With no arguments, Dysus followed after him. The man didn’t look imposing, commanding, or intimidating like he could hurt anybody, so why did Dysus always fall in line with him for any request? He had no idea, but it definitely wasn’t just because he was technically his boss. He definitely didn’t mind helping out either. 

~♫~

The walk to the transport was mainly silent, and slow. Dysus kept focus on keeping his stride even with the frail human beside him, who would probably fall over with a slight breeze if not for the weight of his jackets. This was probably the first time he was out in public walking with a human. And Britton Lorenzo gave no indication he minded. 

“What do you think of that Turian Priestess? Gia? She any help?” 

“Priestess Gaia, and I believe so Sir, won’t know until the next few rehearsals.”

Lorenzo nodded in agreement, a beat of silence resting between them before he suddenly spoke out, “It was Ne’line’s idea ya know? Brilliant woman, and she had the contacts to reach out.”

They approached a transport station; Dysus offered to summon a private one with the discount from his company. Lorenzo graciously declined, more than willing to use the public transport that stops just outside of customs. 

It wasn’t crowded this time of the cycle, still early in the afternoon hours. Not like the Wards ever slept to begin with. A batarian, Salarian, and some Asari were on this shuttle, keeping a wide berth of them taking their seats against the windows. Lorenzo plopped down immediately, looking more aged from the walk over than all the jumping and gesturing he’s ever done in the Pit.

“What do you need at the docks?” Dysus decided to ask. 

He looked over to the seat beside him, to find that Lorenzo was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. Dysus’s mandibled flared, “Sir?” His eyes snapped open. 

“Huh?” He sat back up in his seat, reconnecting to his surroundings. “Shit sorry it’s been a long week. Heh you know about that, but you’re all young.” He looked around to see where they were in distance, “I got a shipment of tech. Straight from Earth.” 

“Earth?” 

“I was able to rent a transport to bring over all the equipment from my last show,” He began, “I got the crew waiting there already, but we could always use the extra hands. If anyone can lift them it's definitely you.” 

The shuttle came to a slow stop at another station, when the doors opened only one passenger came aboard: a lone Quarian. Immediately there was hostility from the nearby Batarian standing towards the front. He practically barked at her when the doors closed and she dared to sit at the seat across from him, “Suit rat.” She jumped back from him like he was on fire, holding her arm and twisting around at the many many open seats around. 

The others around them were giving off similar vibes, some locking down on their Omni-Tools to prevent easy hacking. Dysus could practically hear everyone’s thoughts, but they all but shattered as the human man beside him waved her over, 

“Seats are free over here!” 

The Quarian flinched, the small light of her eyes from beneath her violet mask darting between himself and Lorenzo. The Shuttle had taken off, and she meekly approached them. Lorenzo patted the seat next to him, probably the safest offering then across from them where the Asari guarded. She sat down. “Thanks,” She said out of acquiesce. 

“No problem. I’m not a bigot,” He said proudly, and loud enough for everyone to hear him. Dysus remained guarded, more or less wanting to protest Lorenzo in case the reputation of Quarians on the Citadel were true. “You on your Pilgrimage?” He asked her, which took both her and Dysus by surprise; how a Human knew that detail about a nomadic race was questionable at best. 

The Quarian weedled her hands together nervously, perhaps wondering if he was being earnest. “Yes. I left The Flotilla last week.” 

“And how long have you been on the Citadel?” Lorenzo asked, his tone taking a softer tone. 

“Three days,” She answered, and from her voice it sounded like the worst three days of her life. “Security already tried arresting me twice for walking around.” 

Dysus wasn’t surprised, the Quarians usually kept to themselves on their ships, and left for their Pilgrimage in search of something to bring back to their people, making them seem like thieves and scoundrels. He came across a few in the Military- young wide eyed and barely mature enough to be plunged into the wide galaxy, ending up in bad crowds of pirates, gangs, and slavers. When he came to the Citadel the only ones he saw were practically sweatshop workers of the lower wards. In a way he pitied them, close minded people everywhere refused to give them a chance. 

Lorenzo nodded, “And what are you looking to do here?” 

She straightened her back, “I am not sure. The best option would be for me to buy a ship I can return with, but no one wants to hire a Quarian.” 

Lorenzo made small talk with the Quarian for the few minutes left of their transport. They came to their stop in the Upper Wards, not far from where Dyson goes to the Factory. 

“A musical? Really? Is that even allowed?” The Quarian seemed young, but not as naive as the ones he’s seen in his time. She was pretty content with having a pleasant conversation for once. 

“Yes! And This one is performing in it!” Lorenzo jutted a thumb in Dysus’s direction, and he felt suddenly meek at the attention. He couldn’t help but look to see if anyone noticed. The Asari looked up from a datapad she was reading. 

The Quarian had a accented voice that sounded all the more thicker when she dipped it down an octave, “Oh really?” She looked past Lorenzo right to him, and he had no idea how to react about it. Was he proud to be in this production? He wanted to be. 

Luckily with the landing they were able to depart without having to continue with the conversation. The Quarian exited with them. 

“Hey Dysus.” Lorenzo beckoned him to lean in with the twitch of his finger, “Go to dock 5B and find Hopkins. She’ll fill you in. I’m going to chat with our new friend here,” He motioned to the Quarian standing just out of earshot, but close enough to be part of the conversation and not sticking out as a possible thief. 

Dysus nodded, “If you’re certain.” Lorenzo was an interesting fellow, but could he take her on if need be? Dysus reconsidered staying. “It’ll be alright, i’m tougher than I look.” He laughed, clapping his shoulder, “Go on I don’t need a babysitter.” 

~♫~

“Dysus? What are you doing here?” 

Hopkins was at the tail end of arguing with a Dock worker when Dysus came on the scene. Huddled against a railing nearby was a clump of humans in dark clothing looking out as if waiting for something. They might just be the Tech crew Lorenzo was talking about. Dysus looked down at the short Human, her blue fringe pulled out the back of a cap on top of her head. 

“I came with Lorenzo, he said he needed extra help.” 

“Oh good! Yes thank you you would be a huge help! Now uh- where is he?” 

“Back at customs, making new friends.” 

She groaned, “By God he’s like my mom at church sometimes.” She shook her head, “The ship just came out of the Relay, should be here in a few. We need you to help unload the equipment from there to the transport cargo that CSec will check and that will be all.” 

“What kind of equipment?” She motioned him to follow her, and again he fell into line with her like an old superior. 

“Lights, speakers, microphones, sound cables, the board,” She fired off. “A lot are in boxes, but some of the lights are fragile, and we need to keep track of them.” 

“Why not use what's on the Citadel?” He asked; surely the technology here was superior? 

“If there’s something humans do right, its theatre,” She bragged, giving him a sly smirk. “Lorenzo likes the idea of doing this with older tech. It's not ancient tech, but Human tech. Personally I wouldn’t mind seeing what we could get our hands on, but the boss is the boss.” 

Above them was the all known sound of roaring engines, heads popping up to look at the ugliest ship Dysus has ever seen made its descent to the docking bay. It looked civilian, how the hell did they get their hands on that. It barely looked functional. 

“Alright everyone! Start unloading! The sooner we get this done the sooner we can leave!” She moved her datapad checklist to hold with her arm so she could clap her hands together as a command. The humans scrambled to the opening cargo bay of the ship. 

“Oh Dysus, one more thing,” Hopkins stopped him before his long strides could carry him a mile away from her, “Understudy rehearsal, how’s that going?” 

“It isn’t.” he bit out, causing Hopkins to give him a simple raise of her eyebrow. Well, she was a superior, she needed to know what was happening. “I have tried to meet with her, but she keeps putting it off.” 

Hopkins actually snorted, “Not surprised honestly. She can be a real flake.” 

“Hey! Watch those Source Fours!” Their attention was turned to a group struggling with some of the equipment, and Dysus moved in to help. 

~♫~

It was an hour of work that Dysus was more used to, taking orders and lifting objects to a specific cargo truck. He’s worked in the engineering room a handful of times in service, but he couldn’t name half of what they were using. The Tech crew was nice enough, they had zero problem with him helping out, if at all they were just surprised by his immense height and strength. They asked him polite questions, even joked with him a bit. They were by far more relaxed than the Cast. 

When the ship was depleted Dysus sought out Hopkins to make sure he was finished before leaving. Next to the Stage Manager was Lorenzo with two cups in his hands. He greeted Lorenzo warmly. “Thank you so much for your help Dysus, you’re a real trooper.” 

“Not a problem Sir.” 

Lorenzo handed him one of the cups, before giving the other to Hopkins, “Got you guys come coffee, well, yours is dextro Dysus, not sure what you like in it.” Dysus gave a small sniff to the cup, indeed it was kava. Not the drink he had in mind for the evening, but this did the job. “I think Tech crew is going out for food somewhere. I'm sure they’d love for you to join them.” 

Dysus waved his hand, “I appreciate it, but I have work to catch up on. I will see you both tomorrow.” 

“Oh! Lorenzo, Dysus informed me that Hailey isn’t meeting with him for the role…” Hopkins pointed a stylus at the Turian to make some sort of point.

Lorenzo needed less than one second to have a solution, “Ah! I know! Would you be willing to work with Nichole? I'm sure she'd be open to the idea of getting you ready.” 

Dysus choked on his drink. Nichole. That- no. He more than enjoyed his time with her in passing, but he also noticed the looks from Kyle evolving more to something Turians knew all too well: territory. He heard whispers that he was her mate, working with her any more now would be problematic.

“I uh, she-” 

“She likes to hang out in one of the music rooms now and then for more rehearsal. I can tell her to meet you then.” he clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Excellent! Problem solved!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blocking: Precise staging of actors for a performance.  
> Ex: When will the romance begin? Why is it taking so long? *Throw arm over eyes, cross downstage left, fall on couch*
> 
> Source Four: A common type of light used in stage lighting.
> 
> Also it took me twenty years to find the term kava- a fan-made term for dextro coffee i'm borrowing. I am unsure where it originated from.


	5. Firework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the lyrics to any of the songs in this Musical.  
> I also am terrible with grammar. My apologies.

“I ordered my drink with ice, there is no ice in this!” Said the Salarian, thrusting the cup back at her. Nichole wanted nothing more than to rip him apart piece by piece, but because she needed this secondary job and its flexible hours she put a smile on her face and apologized. She fast walked her way to the kitchen to add ice to the drink that indeed already had ice in it, just not as much as the customer preferred. 

Her feet hurt, her arms were sticky, and the woman wanted nothing more than to collapse in her crappy hard bed in her crappy busy apartment, but at least there were tips tonight to keep her going. Even if they were mostly from people she knew, or were regulars.

She returned the glass with a less than satisfied ‘thank you’ before moving on to check on her other three tables. Duke, or the man playing Duke (sometimes the character names stick more than the real name), was leading a small group to her section, now making it four tables she had to wait. What a shift. As he placed menus in front of them in polite greeting, he lingered for a moment while Nichole took drink orders. It was a family: a Turian and an Asari with two blue children, and the father was giving her a harsh glare. She may not be able to read Turian faces well yet, but it was the _opposite_ of how Dysus looked, and she knew that Dysus was pleasant enough. This man- Turian- oozed loathing. She wrote down the order with a smile and nearly ran away from them, Duke following her trail. 

“Nichole, your Omni-Tool is going off...a lot.” He murmured in her ear. 

She groaned, “Damnit.” 

“Your boyfriend is very attached to you,” he sang, earning him a look of shock on her behalf, “Oh don't give me that look. Everyone knows.” Duke was an odity of the cast. He's been in plenty of productions in the esteemed London area, following her dream of doing Shakespeare at the rebuilt Globe. He was dashing, wavy blonde hair and hazel eyes. What surprised her the msot about him was his calm demeter, he was almost regal. Paying the Duke suit him well.

Nichole pouted, “We’re not-" 

"Oh then don't tell me, just tell him." 

“I will at my lunch.” She always had to call him at her break. He never exactly could remember her schedule, hence why she had to leave her tool in the back to keep from seeing his many many attempts of reaching her. 

When her break finally came she practically sprinted to the break room, reaching into her purse in her locker she dug out a small container of her food before putting her Omni-Tool back on and redialing Kyle. 

After a few rings his face came into view; it was dark where he was, but it looked like the walls of his room at the apartment. “Babe, there you are, why haven’t you answered?” 

“I just got on lunch,” Nichole explained in monotone, settling on a tiny chair in the far corner. She contemplated her next question, “Kyle, have you been telling people we're together?” 

In the shadows she watched his eyebrows furrow, “Yes? We talked about this?” 

She clutched her food container to keep her temper from his answer, “I told you I wanted to go slow, and I'd think about it.” 

The screen moved as he sat up from where he was laying, his tone sharper, “Yeah well I decided it wasn't enough. There’s no reason we can’t make it work like before. And what we’ve been doing in rehearsal...I missed it.” 

Damn him and his charm. She held her ground. “ _Acting_ Kyle. I never agreed to get back with you.” 

“Well, now I want an answer.” 

“Kyle…”

“No, I've waited enough, if you want to back out of this now you'll just look like a bitch.” 

“I-” 

“I know you have your issues Nikky, but you can trust me, you always could right? Have I ever let you down?” His face was closer to the screen now, fully exposing his deep brown eyes. 

She had no answer, he’s always been there when she asked him for help. “No…”

“No, and you know I would have been there for you and your dad if you had asked.” 

Nichole knew that, but she could never ask that of him, he had been given a huge opportunity.

Kyle continued, “You know how _good_ it will look for interviews when they see that the leads are a real poster couple?” That's right, Britton had mentioned advertising once construction was underway. He was pointedly excited about the interviews he secured. Marketing was off to a slow delay, but word of mouth could only do so much on a station with humans as a minority. Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love, _and_ the leads of the musical sharing that in real life? It was publicity gold. 

“I know. You're right.” 

“You bet I am. We look good together Nichole. And also, keep away from that Turian. I don’t like the way he’s been looking at you...” 

Looking at her? She opened her mouth to dare ask what he meant, but a small knock on the doorframe caught her attention. Duke waved at her and tapped at his wrist. Her break was over, and she hadn't been able to eat her lunch. Again. 

Kyle noticed her looking away, “You have to leave? Already?” 

“Yeah, I'll see you later?” She began standing to put her container back into her locker. 

He sighed, “Fine. By the way, you look hot in that outfit.” 

She forced a strained smile as a means to end the conversation. 

~♫~

Duke and her shared the same shift, and after the long hours of being chastised by various customers and run into the ground by the rest, they clocked out and made their way together to the apartment. Duke was counting her tips as they came to the lobby door. 

“Not bad, even that Elcor gave you something.” The creaky door squealed with their access. The lift was blocked off by recognizable yellow hazard holo tape- again. So the stairs it was- again. As they hauled up the several flights the man turned to hand Nichole the palmful of chits when she shook her head, 

“Put it in the group jar, i’m going to go up.” 

“Tell Britton I say hello then,” Duke closed his hand around the minor earnings and split off from the woman down the hall to their door. Nichole took a breath and continued her hike. Around the bend she stopped, her hand going to her head to try and stop the walls from suddenly tilting. Her purse nudged against her hip; reminding her of the lunch she long forgot. Fighting through the haze she shook her head and finished the climb, easing her way to the quiet studio apartment, a quality she rather needed right now before returning to the zoo downstairs. 

After two strong knocks the locks on the door shifted. Britton Lorenzo beamed upon seeing her, “Nichole! Come on in. I just got back.” 

He held the door open for her to enter the tiny space. It was definitely _studio_. A room and a half with a kitchenette, and a pull out Murphy bed against the living room wall.

Papers and books were scattered everywhere on the kitchen counter and the coffee table, as well as tools and devices he seems to be tinkering with. 

He moved to one of the cabinets to pull out a bottle to offer her a drink, she shook her head, opting to put her purse on the kitchen counter and take out her cold food instead. 

“Mind if I eat this?” Britton made a tsk noise and waved at her like she was silly; taking out a glass to pour himself a drink. She tried not to dig in immediately, so she poked at the food with her fork in the meantime, “How did it go?” 

Britton liked his drinks super strong, and took a huge gulp before answering, “Perfect, everything came in in one piece, got it all loaded on time.” He motioned for the living space to the couch against the window- cutting off half its visibility. They sat down. “Dysus actually came with me; he was a great help. He's got a good heart. Oh! And I hired someone for our tech crew. A Quarian I met on the transit.” 

There was a lot to process in that one sentence, Nichole started with the last bit: “A Quarian? Really?” 

Britton laid back on the couch, stretching his legs in front of him. He looked exhausted, he must have exerted himself too much with the supply drop. “Techies the bunch of them. She’s in a tough spot, needs a job.”

Nichole smiled into her food, his generosity and compassion held no bounds. “You're always taking in misfits.” She remembered a time he had given her a similar chance. Has she really known Britton for almost a decade already?

His smile reflected her very thoughts, “I suppose I do.” 

They sat in a comfortable silence.

Nichole took a bite of her food, her eyes roaming on top the coffee table in front of them. She spotted the small plastic bottles. “You take your medication?” 

“You’re the third woman to remind me. Insane. All of you.” 

“You can’t blame Amy and Ne’line. If we don’t, who will?” 

“I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much, although the concern is noted.” His joints creaked as he sat up to lean forward to swipe at one of the bottles. Nichole kept to her food, not wanting to stare at the labels. “I also know you didn’t come up here to keep an old man company, something happen at work today?” 

Oh the things she could tell him, but she didn't want to unload her problems on him. “Nothing more than usual, I’m just not ready to go back to the warzone that is my life.” 

“I know you can handle it. Just be firm and tell Kyle no tonight, you need to be refreshed for tomorrow, its a big day.”

Right. Costume fittings.

They held small talk about the progress of the show until her food was long gone. She made her way to the door again, tossing the empty container in the incinerator on her way. Her hand was over the keypad when Britton stopped behind her, 

“Oh, by the way I told Dysus you'd help him learn his part if thats alright.” 

She froze. “Wait, what?”

The Director put his hands on his lower back to stretch, “Hailey isn't much help right now. And if anyone can help him, it's you.”

“Me? What can I possibly do?” Nichole has done Theatre for years yes, but that hardly made her an expert. 

“Don't be modest Nichole, you'll be fine. I’d help him but I have-”

“A thousand other hats to wear I know.” She gestured to the tools all over the table, “You know you're technically just the director right?” 

For the first time in a while a shining gleam sparkled in Britton's eyes as he gazed at the scraps Nichole pointed to, but only he saw their true potential in its future glory. “I'm gonna do this right Nichole. I feel it with this show. And If I have to do all the jobs to make sure, then I'll do it." The fatigue stomped out the glint in his eyes, he leaned against the wall to try and hide it. "You’re ok with helping Dysus right?”

The warning from Kyle echoed deep in her mind, but with how Britton was looking right now, how could she say no? “I am. I have no problems with him, he’s actually been really nice.”

The smile he gave her made the sacrifice worth it. “Glad to hear it. Talk to him tomorrow! I'll see you then!” 

He gently shoved her out the door; closing it behind her. 

~♫~

There was an excitement in the air lately since the shipment from Earth. The detailed plans of the heads of the Technical Department were finally able to dive into work with preparations. No one could be happier than the Costume Department who had little to work with before, now squeezing in each and every cast member in a tight schedule starting today. Nichole had her fitting bright and early; the seamstresses ‘ooing’ and ‘aahing’ over what colors would just look gorgeous against her skin tone. She almost had to beg to let them release her for rehearsal. It was tough because the woman had to re-measure everything of Nichole- the measurements she had sent in did not match up. Already stressed she made it to the rehearsal room on time. And they waited. 

They set up chairs around the ‘stage’ part of the taped-out room for the scene. 

And waited. 

Rico had some questions in regards to his interactions with the character Nini, and An’la had some arguments about his questions. 

And waited. 

“Where is Christian?” Britton finally asked. Nichole shook her head when all eyes went to her, she hadn’t seen him since she left this morning. Somewhere behind her Rico scoffed, but made no comment. 

Amy checked her Omni-Tool, “Kyle is not answering.” 

Britton and Amy appeared annoyed by this, leaving a sinking feeling in Nichole’s gut. Britton checked the time again, “Well we needed to start twenty minutes ago-” 

“Britton, Dysus _is_ here, why doesn’t he step in until Kyle arrives?” Ne’line piped up, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

Everyone turned their heads to the Turian in the back of the room, sitting next to the plastic table with assorted snacks, a cup of kava in one hand and a datapad in the other. Perfectly oblivious for three whole seconds; there was a perfect timing about the scene that made Nichole have to suppress a laugh when he finally looked up.

Britton’s annoyed mood instantly vanished. “Dysus! Yes come, come up and we can get through the scene with you.” 

Nichole shifted her weight where she stood in the acting space, she had just sent the message last night that she would meet with him later today; would he be so willing to jump in already? What if he didn’t know the lines yet?

The Turian must have had the same thought as he tried to explain, “We haven’t-”

“Now is as good a time as any!” Britton began waving wildly to urge him to the front. Nichole strained her ears to try and catch any whispering, but the room was another awkward quiet. Nichole watched the flaps on the sides of Dysus's face flare out then clap against his jaw. He shifted in his seat, releasing the cup and slowly coming to his feet with the beckoning of the Director. Nichole took a calming breath, she could do this. Why wouldn’t she be able to do this?

~♫~

Dysus swallowed next to Greg and Rico off to the side at the top of the scene. 

He was trying very hard not to panic. 

It was working as well as a Vorcha diplomat.

It started easy enough; Rico and Greg took the lead herding him along the edge, and Hopkins was more than happy to feed him lines. Dysus was still a mess.

He focused on the one thing he did know: dancing. Little did he know that was **exactly** what Lorenzo decided to expand on today after an hour had passed. An hour that Kyle had not shown up for.

Lorenzo adjusted his glasses on his nose while skimming through the script in his lap. “Why don’t we skip and do the first scene with you two? A few lines before the dance.” 

Uh, wait, no, that meant he had to dance with-

Behind him Greg and Rico pushed him forward, followed by a light scattered applause urging him to center stage. He approached her, reminding himself it's just rehearsal while simultaneously grateful humans couldn't hear his subvocals warbling nervously. They were supposed to meet _later_ , giving him hours more to prepare. These were hours he no longer had. The only thing on his side was how the amount of people around was minimal. Less a chance for everyone to witness him make a fool of himself. 

But if he learned anything from the past few weeks, it’s that whatever he did today: everyone would know about it. If he did bad now, would Nichole back out on helping him?

A wisp of giggles flew around the room that caused him to blink back to reality. Nichole was staring at him, and giving him the oddest look, lifting one of her perfect eyebrows in his direction. Dysus sought out Lorenzo who was grinning like an idiot. “Well? You can start whenever you’re ready.” 

When he turned back to his now scene partner, she was already holding out her hand for him to take. Consent: a good start. 

Hesitantly he took her hand-

And all time and space came to an abrupt halt.

Electricity shot up his arm and down to his toes, the remnant of a tingling sensation lingering behind. A nonexistent blow knocked the very breath out of him in one attack. Her skin was so soft, like the fine Asari silk Rajil made a point for him to feel whenever he got Lyla something. 

A flashing panic seized him by the throat with the realization of why her skin was so soft: he did not have his gloves on. He had left them in the care of the costume designer for his size; not thinking he was to be used in rehearsal today. Alarm bells began going off all around him, instinct and manners making him try to pull away but it was too late. Her grip was sure, so _right_ , and all he could do was acquiesce into the routine. The tingling traveled to his brain, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. When their bodies pressed close together, his breath caught in his throat. What was he supposed to do? 

He went with the motions clumsily, only having watched this dance once and practiced alone in the isolation of his apartment. He’s danced with Asari, but never a human, not even during the past few weeks. If anything _Hailey_ would be the first human he would have danced with. Nichole was more than anything he expected… he’s never danced with anyone quite like her before. 

There they were, two near-strangers: him in his sweatpants and gym tunic, her in shorts and a tank top, traveling the room in off rhythm. It still felt so in synch in a way he could never describe with words. 

Dysus kept going regardless of the fumbles, trying desperately to not look at his feet, but finding it even more difficult to look her in the eye; he found his focus in watching his talons, trying not to tug her too hard or risk harming her. If she was worried, or judging him on his many mistakes, she didn’t show it, and that was the only encouragement he needed near the end to help her to stand on the plastic chair in the dead center. She was weightless, making up for all his trips without any indication something was wrong.

She truly was a professional. 

Then, a loud abrupt squeak of an opening door broke the spell, triggering a stumble from both parties. Nichole wobbled rapidly. One millisecond of her falling back was all it took for basic instincts to kick in. His grasp on her arm wasn’t enough alone; his talons were slipping away. Dysus pounced forward, arms out, legs stretching more than normally possible of a Turian, catching her in his arms before her head could hit the floor. 

Whatever trance or fantasy swarming in his head- it all faded away as the background noise of a dozen footsteps came running towards them. 

“Oh crap are you ok?”

“Holy cow that was close!”

“Nice catch Dysus!”

He hadn’t moved yet, not even to acknowledge the others. He was looking at Nichole, waiting to lift her head as proof that she was ok. Her hair brushed the floor, her eyes unblinking to his own.

At the same time they took a breath, out of nervousness or the near disaster he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but wonder. 

He helped her to her feet to be swarmed by cast members, one a shocking twist of events: the opening door was from the arrival of a very late Kyle. He was at her side in an instant, checking her over. Dysus tried not to listen to what he was saying, but it was hard to ignore the frantic tone. “You alright babe? That was- you’re bleeding!” 

Dysus snapped his head back, brushing past Greg lifting his hand for a high five to look over the small crowd around her. He hoped Kyle was exaggerating, but the proof was on the arm he was holding when she fell; in the wake of him slipping away his talons had left behind two thin red lines. It hit him like a blow, despite all his efforts he wasn’t careful enough, he had hurt her.

He had hurt the female lead. 

Lorenzo looked wildly around the room, “Hey Amy can you bring the- oh thank you.” He took the first aid kit from the unnaturally fast human woman who appeared by his side, opening it up with care. Dysus looked to his bare hands at his sharp talons; consternation setting in his gut.

“What is wrong with you?" Kyle's voice snapped, running on Dysus in an instant. Kyle was as stupid as he was hard headed, but it definitely took guts to get in a Turian's face. He stabbed a finger in his chest, "You shredded Nichole!" 

"Kyle its just a couple scratches!" Greg was by his side again, crossing his arms over his chest. The tensions in the room were rising. 

Dysus kept calm, "If you hadn't interrupted the scene-"

"Don't you dare touch my girl again," Kyle growled, taking a menacing step forward. Duke and Rico pulled at his arms in an instant, holding him back. 

Hopkins stepped between them, "Guys guys you need to calm down. No harm done it's just a scratch." 

Nichole, hearing the confrontation, pushed away from Lorenzo, "Kyle, it was just an accident."

“Nichole you didn’t see what I saw, i'm not letting that filthy Turian-”

“Enough Kyle!” Nichole exploded on him, her hands cutting through the air like a fine knife. She commanded the room like a military officer, stunning everyone to silence. Her eyes darted around the room, “I need some space.” Leveling her arm against her ribs, Nichole brushed between Greg and Dysus, snatching her purse from her chair, and exiting the room, closing the door behind her. 

Lorenzo clapped his hands together. “Let’s cut rehearsal short today. You can all work on your scenes individually in the meantime, or for those of you who have fittings _do not be late_.” 

Dysus watched the still door after her, trying to find any logical explanation of what happened when he first took the room with her, and how he messed it all up. 

Duke pushed an angry Kyle out the other door to the costume department with Hopkins on their heels in a rant about punctuality and demanding an explanation; the others dispersed from the room. 

Greg was left by his side once more, “She’s not mad at you,” He explained, “I mean, who could be mad at that catch. It was hot.” 

His attempt worked; Dysus’s mandibles relaxed from his face with the crack of a smile. He wanted to believe Greg, he really did. 

But he was going to make sure. 

~♫~

How she managed to agree to help him in the first place was staggering; before today whispers spoke of a woman who was a lead, and she had no time for anything but being perfect. Or that she was fake, her kindness only steps to get her to a higher pedestal. Helping dancers, helping understudies was beneath her. All these whispers Dysus took and brushed them aside from the very beginning. From everything he’s seen about her, how she acted around him, was nothing short of decency. And today…

Well he put that part off to the side for now. 

It was closing in on the meeting time; Nichole hadn’t messaged him otherwise, so Dysus was in the clear of continuing to the meeting spot in one of the music rooms. Maybe she _was_ mad? Maybe she was going to tell him in person she didn’t feel safe working with him, that he was unreliable. 

He wouldn’t blame her, it was a miracle people didn’t hate him at the moment. He had to ask Lorenzo if this event meant he was fired, having no idea what it meant working with humans.

Lorenzo laughed. Dysus didn’t find it very amusing. 

Yet he couldn’t help but head downstairs fifteen minutes early, walking slower than normal, so many thoughts and feelings conflicting with each other. 

Then he hears something within one of the rooms; it takes a second to realize its singing, someone is already working in there. 

His brain tells him to wait until they’re done, but his feet are already approaching cautiously, listening in on what- or who- it is. The door was not closed all the way and as he crept closer: 

keys, slow and methodical, rang from within. 

_Do you ever feel_

_Feel so paper thin_

_Like a house of cards_

_One blow from caving in_

There was no doubt about it, having never heard her sing, he knew it was her by the slightest overpowering hint of that flowery smell hitting his nose.

_Do you ever feel already buried deep_

_Six feet under screams_

_But no one seems to hear a thing_

Should he leave? He should leave right? His thoughts chastised him, but his feet were glued to the floor. The decision was made for him with a voice from behind. 

“Lingering, Dysus?” 

He jumped. High. And maybe he squawked, losing his balance enough to knock over two of the stacked crates in the minimal space available to him; gravity dragging him down with them. A loud series of crashing noises followed. Greg was laughing much to his expense. He was going to kill that human.

“Greg!-” 

“ _That’s_ why they always say to never jump a Turian! I wish I filmed that!” Greg slapped his knees, straightening at the sound of approaching footsteps from behind the door. He projected his voice to reach beyond, whilst his eyes were trained on Dysus knowingly, “Well _Dysus_! Have fun in rehearsal! And i’ll see ya tonight Nichole!” He spun on his heels before swaggering down the hallway and out of the building just as the door behind Dysus opened. He looked up to see Nichole, looking down at him for the second time today. Any humor Greg tried to rile up died away with her unreadable look. 

Then, she took a step out of the doorway, and offered her hand. “Are you ok?” 

He went to take the assistance from the lure of her honeyed voice, but stopped at the sight of her bandaged arm. He retracted it immediately, finding his gaze on the crates among him. 

A moment of silence passed. 

“I wanted to first apologize. I never meant to hurt you-” 

“Stop it.” her firm voice silenced his words and the guilt thrumming from his subvocals. He forced himself to look at her hardened gaze, “It was an accident, I know you didn’t mean it. Although-” She bent down to grab his arm and help haul him to his feet. She certainly couldn’t lift him, but the attempt was appreciated. “- If we’re going to be rehearsing together, you’ll need to dull those.” 

Her hands lingered on his bicep, and shivers ran down his spine. He was glad he hadn’t taken her hand again, unsure what reactions that would have caused this time. “You mean, after that, you’re still willing to work with me? Aren’t you?-” He stopped himself. She was never scared of him. It was a stupid question. 

Nichole stepped away, gesturing into the music room. She pretended not to notice the last question being cut off. 

“Of course Dysus. It was an accident, in fact…” He followed her inside the smaller space, lingering in the doorway as she took a seat at the piano again. “I should apologize to you.” 

_Apologize? To me_? “For Kyle’s behavior. He’s never been like that. I don’t know what’s gotten into him…” 

“He was being protective. Common amongst Turians.” Dysus has seen it before now and then with his family. Rajil was one of the few Turians who rarely showcased the primal response, but when he did, it was terrifying. 

Nichole chuffed. “Well, I guess it’s common among Humans too, but this was different. He’s different…” Her eyes trailed off to look at something only she could see. Dysus shifted uncomfortably. 

“Nichole, is something wrong?” 

She snapped back up, plastering a weak smile, "No, i'm fine. Can I ask you something?” Dysus, treading carefully of the conversation, gave a curt nod. “How do you do it? You've never acted a day in your life and you can handle all of them. Even I need to get away now and then.” 

Taking this as permission to enter, Dysus gave off a few minute clicking sounds, “I had practice. I grew up with six siblings.”

“What? Six?” Nichole’s eyes were comically wide. 

A sound of pained and pleasant memories rumbled from the back of his throat before he answered, “Yes, my family clan actually shared a villa, so I also grew up with my cousins. All together there were probably around eighteen of us.” He slowly went for the stool on the other side of the piano, easing into it. “So when you say things get ‘crazy’ I’ve had some experience with chaos.” 

“Do any of them have talent like you?” 

“If they did, they didn’t know it. This kind of thing isn't welcome in my society freely, but definitely not in my family.” His voice trailed off as he looked at her, “You... think I have talent?” 

The skin on her cheeks slowly turned a shade of pink, an interesting reaction Dysus had yet to understand. “Britton wouldn't have hired you if he didn’t see something,” She frowned in thought, “You’re a fantastic dancer, and a very quick learner.” 

That surprised the Turian. Her words meant more to him than he could convey. The lead actress was telling him that he in fact had a place here. 

“I...thank you.” 

For a moment they stared at each other, Dysus wondered why he couldn’t seem to pull away, or why Nichole didn’t. 

When she did it was paired with the red on her cheeks and a dry cough, “Do you uh, want to run some of the lines with me?” 

Oh yeah, the whole reason they were here in the first place. He nodded. “If you’re willing to help me.” 

She smiled, flipping through the binder in front of her to her script, Dysus following her lead with his own. 

“And maybe after, we’re all going to eat at the diner. If you wanna come with us?” 

Dysus accepted. He wasn't feeling like going to Chora’s tonight anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all over the place, but we got a bad case of the FEELS going around.


	6. So Exciting! (The Pitch Song)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this being late. First the Clone Wars season finale dropped and I was not in the headspace XD.  
> Then when I was almost done with the chapter I scrapped the entire thing for a re-write. Special thanks to LiteralPantry for the assist.

_The Citadel is the center of the Terminus System, and the center of all high tech marketing across all species; so why can’t I find anything useful?_ Dysus was silently seething while searching on the extranet for solutions to the continuous mech problem. He’s spent way more time than warranted or necessary, but he was lucky to have gotten out of the conversation with the client alive when he had to tell him about the delay. If there wasn’t a screen between them, Dysus might have been more nervous than he was, but after spending his whole life being the disappointment of his family he was used to the berating. 

This was the first time in almost a month Dysus actually needed to work from his office. A small layer of dust had accumulated on his desk, and he spent a haunting amount of time cleaning up and pondering too much about that detail. His absence hadn’t deterred Rajil from his corner naps at all; Dysus couldn’t be mad about it, at least the office was getting some use. 

Said Turian and his constant companion was sitting across from his desk, unleashing his manager tone at some poor fool down in accounting for a major mistake made. Dysus felt bad for the kid, probably some intern, they’d probably never know the kind-crazy side of Rajil for a long time. 

“If you were as half as good at your job as you were with making excuses we wouldn’t be here would we? No, just get it done before I leave today or I'll have to have a talk with whoever in Spirits’ name recommended you to this company.” His talon stabbed the end call button, allowing gravity to take his arm with a ‘thunk’. “So,” he sighed, the anger in him depleting, “You coming with us tonight this time?” 

“Huh?” Dysus looked up from the third article on VI sales and their shipping costs before it clicked what he was talking about. “Ah, I…” Dysus knew he was in trouble as he watched Rajil’s browplates sink above his eyes, 

“Again? What is it this time? There’s no way Lorik is making you go to the factory again.” 

Dysus has used a great many excuses as to why he hasn’t gone to Choras, but even he knew it was getting repetitive. 

“Chora’s Den doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I’m thinking of trying something new tonight.” 

The fact that he had been asked to go clubbing with the Cast and Crew was a minor detail to not be explained. 

“Trying something new?” When he was in Manager mode or scowled like he was now he looked a lot like his Uncle. Which made this feel worse somehow. He sat back in his chair, mandibles and gaze still as stone, “Who are you?” 

Dysus shrugged, an action he learned from spending so much time with Humans. “It was your advice Raj, and consider me embracing it.” Dysus shut down his desk terminal and finished the last bite of the leftovers he brought today from the Diner he’s been going to after rehearsals with some of the cast. It was surprisingly good quality for its convenience. It was Greg who convinced him to try the dextro version of human food, and Nichole who helped him pick the dish. Everyone seemed to enjoy watching him try anything they did. 

Rajil kicked his feet up on the far corner of the desk because he knew it would tick Dysus off. “Mhm, and I'm assuming your newfound happy demeanor has something to do with that?” Dysus raised a brow plate, urging his subvocals to stop from giving away the panic from being lost in his memories. “Oh don’t give me that, you’re working your ass off, but i’ve never seen you so happy before. I caught you humming in your office this morning while you were cleaning. So what is it?” 

“I need to speak to the managers about their equipment budget,” Dysus changed the subject and stood from his chair. 

“Ah, you’re deflecting. So just tell me who she is.” Rajil was in his element now: prying. 

“Who?”

“The girl you’re seeing.” 

Dysus almost, _almost_ rolled his eyes, another thing he’s picked up over the past few weeks. He was lucky to hold himself back, “I'm not seeing anybody.” Of course Rajil would hope Dysus was dating again, or at all. It was official, with the amount of gossip about him at work too, Dysus concluded that Humans and Turains were too much alike. 

Rajil stared long at his friend, a glint of disbelief in his eyes, but he had the proper mercy not to say anything. And Dysus took that as permission to leave. 

He got in the disheveled company cruiser and headed out, failing to mention he was just going to call the managers on his way over to rehearsal. Technicality. 

Anyways, today was an interesting day; there was no real rehearsal today, but the Stage Manager had mentioned an all-call for a ‘special surprise’. 

~♫~

When Dysus arrived at the coordinates given he was already on alert. Strangely enough the directions put them right in the downtown sector of the lower ward. Crowded, busy, and high energy; a completely different mood from where the Pit sat, and the leads’ apartment complex a ways away. What they were doing here was a mystery to him, and everyone else. Even the most invested gossipers only had that, gossip. 

No one even noticed him approaching by how deep they were in conversation trying to take a guess. A portion of them were clumped in the middle of the walkway, but others had glued themselves to the side railing overlooking a large drop between them and the other side of the ‘street’. He gravitated towards his friends. Greg spotted him first, 

“Hey Dysus do you know what’s going on?” 

“I’m as in the dark as you are,” He told them, leaning back against the railing next to him. People seemed to assume he knew a lot about what was going on; from working closely with Lorenzo and the tech crew he was made as some sort of ‘insider’, but it was just a token title. Dysus was only really around when help was needed. 

Nichole leaned forward to catch his eye, “Even I don’t know, but isn’t it exciting!” She pushed herself from the rail and strutted dramatically in front of them, “Deep in the lower Wards; both for the wealthy and poor, where the jacks can come and be kings.” She waved her hands up; reaching for the neon streaks left behind by the skycars above. She laughed and let her hands down; Greg clapping for her performance. Dysus joined him. 

“This is all up your alley isn’t it?” Greg inquired. 

She beamed. “It’s just like New York City, these sights and sounds bring back so many memories.” 

Dysus checked their surroundings with a less enthusiastic eye, “And the crowds and criminals entice you too?” This place wasn’t anything magical to him, it was the Citadel. There was just as much corruption around as the rest of the galaxy, but here they hid it. Like Illium; Rajil told Dysus stories from when he grew up there, but at least in comparison the Citadel was reasonably safer. 

“They all bring the energy Dysus, don’t tell me you’ve never hit the town before?” She placed her hands on her hips, challenging him with a wicked smile that did things to him. He tried not to squirm. 

“Haven’t needed to, I like to remember things that happen thank you very much.” 

Greg elbowed him, hurting him more than Dysus. “You’ll learn Dysus, once our next paychecks come in, we are hitting it.” 

“Just don’t call me to bail you out.” He joked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Greg set off a high pitched mock laugh that Nichole copied exactly. “Oh Dysus, Dysus my friend, you think we’re not dragging you with us?” 

The nearby clump roared to life with some sort of game between the members. Rico being the loudest amongst them. 

Suddenly Nichole jumped with a high pitched scream and Dysus nearly had a heart attack. Before his hand could go to the concealed pistol on his person Nichole was now in a giggling fit, being balanced upright from someone who came up behind her. 

“Got you,” Kyle laughed, hugging her close to his chest. 

“Kyle you asshole!” Nichole giggled, prying out of his grasp. Kyle wasn’t much taller than Nichole, and he’s been growing out his dark hair for the character. Something that both amazed and terrified Dysus was the concept of hair and how fast it grew and how they just cut it like it’s no big deal. He got goosebumps thinking about it. 

Kyle was a very fit guy, and taking on the lead role was nothing to him, no pressure of doing well because he always did well. From watching rehearsals Dysus had to admit he was really good, then the line of thought would lead back to the same question: so why the hell was he second in line? 

Kyle barely spoke to him, especially since the incident, and yet Dysus had some sort of respect for the guy and could understand the glare of daggers his way. 

Dysus surely wouldn't amount to what he did. 

He puffed out his chest in his dark jacket and turned Nichole towards the railing, “Thinking of home?” 

“A little, but I wouldn’t give this up.” Nichole smiled, still watching as shuttles passed overhead. 

The Turian stood from his palace at the railing, wanting to keep a calm Kyle around but also wanting to ask the three humans a question. 

“Are you all from Earth?” Everyone knew Earth was the Human home world, but any human he’s met before, an already rare occurrence, were spacers or from some other colony planet. 

The three of them turned at the same time. 

Kyle crossed his arms, “Why do you care? You can just look it up on the extranet can’t you?” 

Dysus was trying very hard to be patient whenever it came to Kyle for the sake of his friends and the company, but sometimes he just wanted to roll his eyes as a response and see what happens. “I’m not asking for secret army bases Rutherford, just polite conversation.”

“And I think that’s _very_ nice,” Greg added, shooting a pointed stare to the man. Greg faced Dysus with a softer look, “Grew up in a country called America, in a state called California. Crowded, hot, earthquakes, but if you drive an hour out into the desert you can see the most beautiful night sky! Oh and the coyotes! Gotta watch for them.”

Well Greg's pitch was the least helpful so far of the human home world.

Nichole sighed, “I never had a good view of the stars where I grew up, too much pollution. New York City is on the Eastern coastline of America: freezing winters, hot muggy summers, but there’s a small park with some of the most beautiful trees.” She smiled in memory, “I met Britton there when I went into acting, and that’s where I met Kyle and-” She shrugged, “The rest is history.” 

Ok so there's scorching desert lands, places below freezing temperatures, and wild animals. What was this place and how did Humans survive? Kyle surprised him when he spoke up, for once not with venom dripping from his mouth, “I lived in New York, but I wasn’t born there.” 

“Kyle…” Nichole warned from beside her, but Kyle didn’t even look at her,

“No, Nichole he fucking asked didn’t he? It’s my turn to share.” The tone of the seemingly innocent question turned sour; Dysus was in a minefield now, completely invented by the human in front of him. “My parents own a solar power company, and the Alliance reached out to them asking for their products to go on a new mission, a great mission for humankind. Help settle a new colony, you know where that was?” 

Dysus had a horrible feeling he did but chose not to step on a mine. Kyle scowled. “Shanxi. Didn’t take long for my parents to be forced to move back, wonder why?” 

“Ah! Are we all here?” The group spun around to see Director Lorenzo and Assistant Director Ne’line Junn come down the far block towards them. “Well it looks like enough, anyone else who isn’t here, message them when we get to the new location.” Dysus and Kyle looked to another briefly; Nichole urged Kyle away from the minefield, and shot Dysus another of her apologetic looks. 

Good job Dysus. 

“Which is where? What are we doing?” Haley’s voice squawked above the others, being ignored as Lorenzo began leading the herd down the street. 

With no more information to be gained, the crowd decided to glance wildly at the bustling commercial heavy section around them. Greg gave off a low whistle beside the Turian as they walked, also seeing the near execution he almost got. “That wasn't looking great…” 

For once Dysus agreed, too many close calls with the man for his taste. “Is his family…” 

“As far as I know they’re fine, but they uh- didn’t really want to stay there anymore after...that whole...thing.” 

His mandibles twitched with agitation. “Well he shouldn’t be blaming me for that, I was still in the cowl when they happened.” 

The short man bounced forward to keep up with the Turians long strides, waving his dark skinned hands around, “Oh no dude no doubt about it. He’s just being a prick.” 

They continued to walk in silence, although Dysus’s attention was elsewhere for the next three blocks. Then there was the increase of neon splashes, foot traffic, and blinding advertisements bringing him back from the war stories of his father. Now familiarity tugged at Dysus’s crest realizing he’s been here before; this was the height of business wealth in all departments. He must have been around here for business before.

The lights got brighter and brighter, creating cool toned daylight around them. Techno music, various automated and personalized VI announcements greeted them at every kiosk, and cheers surrounded them from all different directions. 

When they passed the Armax Arsenal Arena and Dysus almost tripped Greg over realizing exactly where they were, but why were they here? 

Lorenzo had spoken up over his thoughts; standing atop of a bench for everyone’s attention. He looked like a Turian getting his markings. “Can everyone hear me? Good, I’m sure you’ve all been curious, and ah- what the hell with speeches. May I present: our new home!” 

He gestured out behind them, and everyone turned. 

A large grand building sat on the other side across from the small walk bridge and down the street. Taking up half a block; it was more than a large surprise even in its darkened state. It looked abandoned, the front entrance a deep imbedded exterior lobby covered by a roofing jutting out in a half moon shape. On the edges were the faded words ‘Eternity Theatre’. It took Dysus a few extra seconds to fully understand what was happening, but the wild gasping around him was a help. 

“No way!” 

“Is that ours?” 

“It’s huge!” 

“How did you!-” 

Everyone was speaking at once, but they all stopped at the chuckling from their director; Lorenzo lifted a hand, “What? Did you think I'd fly half of us all the way to the Citadel only to perform in a rotting abandoned apartment?” He feigned offense, “Ne’line was able to help me secure this place, it was used for Asari entertainment, but the owner died and had no successor, so we were given permission to rent this for our show!” 

Everyone started screaming. Even Dysus was caught up in the excitement, more space to move around sounded a lot better. The best part? They got them building in the middle of the Silversun Strip. They were booked on the Spirits’ damned _Strip_. 

Even the humans knew how prestigious this claim was. “But this is the Strip! How did you-!?” 

Lorenzo laughed, “Thank Ne’line everyone.” The Asari gave a nervous wave behind him as the cast basked in her complete glory. 

“Thank you Ne’line!”

“You rock Ne’line!”

“You’re a queen Ne’line!”

“This is unbelievable!” 

Dysus visually sought out Nichole for no particular reason. She could hardly contain her excitement; jumping up and down against the railing with eyes locked in on the grand building. It warmed his heart to see her so happy at something as simple as a building. Even Kyle looked pleased in his radius for the first time ever. 

“Now we can really shine, huh babe?” Kyle slipped a hand around her wrist, pulling her close to him. Nichole smiled, 

“A real theatre, the show is going to look _amazing_.” 

“With us? Yeah it will.” Kyle’s fingers went under her shin and pulled her mouth to press against his. Something inside of Dysus panged in response. 

“Hey Kyle! This place is really fancy, you think you can keep up amigo?” 

Kyle shifted away from Nichole towards Rico who called to him, “Just watch me Santiago!” 

Dysus took a long look at Nichole beneath the man’s arm across her shoulders and noticed the excitement he saw just a moment ago was gone without a trace; sure she was smiling, but the arm must have been twenty pounds to weigh her down so much, and that light was gone from her eyes. Odd. 

Lorenzo had to shout for their attention again, “Now we can’t go in today, but we will be moving in bright and early tomorrow before rehearsal. We would love and appreciate any extra hands! But I hear you are all going out tonight so please be responsible and i’ll see you all tomorrow.” 

~♫~

Purgatory was the biggest club on the Citadel, and a walking distance away from the Eternity Theatre. This was a dangerous combination in Dysus’s opinion, and he hoped the rowdy humans would make a decent impression to be allowed _back_ for the remainder of their stay in this Ward. 

The chain email for this event instructed to meet Duke at the main entrance and to not ‘worry about the line’. Dysus got into line anyway as he knew no better. Thirty minutes later a tall human slid up next to him outside the rope divide, 

“Why am I not surprised?” Duke said, “A Turian who follows the rules, come on I said I could get you all in.” Duke waved Dysus to follow him, walking up the line. The Turian stared for half a second before jumping over the rope to follow. They passed a very long stretch of dressed-to-party customers, giving him a different set of looks. Duke didn’t seem to mind or care about the same looks, “I heard Kyle dumped his tragic backstory on you.” 

Of course he did. Of course anyone did. “It’s getting unnerving how nothing is private anymore.” 

Duke waved, _waved_ to the Krogan bouncer ten times his size at the front before passing by. The Krogan gave Dysus a once over, but said nothing as the Turian followed. Duke continued inside the lobby. “He gave me that spiel the first week of rehearsals. I wouldn’t worry about him, he’s all bark and no bite.” 

While others were waiting in line to be let in at the main set of doors, Duke took a sharp turn to a doorway with two bouncers on the left. This was a restricted section for VIP only. Duke was a pleasant cast member to talk to, far more relaxed than others, so this wasn’t surprising as it was interesting. “Are you really a VIP here?” 

They slowed down upon approaching the two bouncers. Duke shoved his hands in the pockets of his tight pants. “I know some people. You think this is just another handsome face? I’ve earned some respect around the Wards.” He gave a sharp nod to the bouncers: a Batarian and a Turian. “He’s with me.”

And without question the two let them in; Dysus took this treatment in stride, he felt pretty special. He would have been in that line forever. 

Duke led him through and Purgatory opened up in all its glory. He’s heard about this place and its amazing reviews, but to witness it was something else. The place was massive with a tall ceiling and two different divisions: a lower bar area and dance floor and a thick stairwell to an upper section. The place was packed, and the temperature was already eight degrees hotter. 

“I think everyone went upstairs. I’ll catch ya later Dysus.” And with that Duke was gone, vanishing into the sea of various species without a care in the world. If the Strip’s lights and sounds could be captured in a bottle, it was definitely released here. The DJ here was much better than the stuff at Choras, although a piece of him was starting to miss that repetitive Asari song ingrained in his memory.

A voice made his head turn around, “Dysus!” Nichole hazardly ran up to him with a wide smile. She changed since when he last saw her, wearing that same slim skirt and top from the vid viewing party. Her hair was pulled up on her head in the similar fashion as Hopkins does. She stopped well in his personal space, “We’re at the upstairs bar come get a drink!” 

Dysus followed her, not quite sure what he was going to do now. He hadn’t planned this far ahead; usually when he would hang out with the cast and crew he observed, crack a few jokes now and then, eat his food and learn from the others, but this event was definitely more of a participatory thing. 

“Ayyyy Dysus!” A familiar crowd of humans called to him against the far wall of the dance floor at the top section. This area was darker in lighting, but the energy was intense. People dancing close to each other regardless of their species. He was able to get a short wave in before Nichole urged him to the short line at the very long bar. 

This is the part of the night that gets a little fuzzy. Dysus remembers getting a drink and chatting with his friends, he remembers offering to buy a round for them after, then he thinks he got him and the cast a round of hard liquor shots. Rico and An’la got into some sort of petty argument. Duke eventually joined and got the good brands from the bartender. The lights got brighter and brighter with each drink, loosening him up and numbing him at the same time. Kyle showed up at one point to drink with Nichole.

After that and some amount of time is where words became recognizable. 

“Let’s dance!” Nichole suddenly said, dragging him to the dance floor. 

“I uh-”

An’la perked up at Nichole’s words, shaking her hips violently with her hands in the air, “Oh Yes Dysus come on and dance!”

Rico hopped on the balls of his feet to hype himself up, “Come on Dysus it's time to see you let loose!” 

Dysus kept getting pulled to the center of the floor; Greg doing a sort of urging with the shake of his shoulder while Nichole begged, “Come on! No judgement here Dysus, we’re all one weird family!” 

Dysus started with a bit of a shuffle, getting the feel of the room. He could feel the eyes on him, feeling the exact same way they did when he was five, ten, fifteen years younger. Usually it would take a few moments before he walked away, but this time, maybe it was the cheering of the other humans of all things keeping him center, or the alcohol in his veins, but he told himself this time he had practice. And he was going to show it off.

For the first time in years Dysus forgoed the simple routine dances he’s been doing in the Pit, and went into what felt like a frenzy of larger movements. He stepped, swayed, twisted around, crouching low to the ground and waving his arms like nobody’s business. And it was all worth it when the heat from other’s eyes fizzled away, replaced by loud, annoying- but encouraging cheers. 

“Woohoo!” Someone shouted. 

He lost track of time, and somehow was able to not injure anyone with his partying, but he was having so much Spirits’ damned fun. Nichole was dancing next to him the whole time. He could still smell her over the alcohol, grounding him. Where he was usually nervous around her, the ‘liquid courage’ as Greg called it told him not to care, and he didn’t. 

He wanted to remember this night for the rest of his life.

Nichole’s movements slowed into an uneasy sway, her hand pressing against her head. “Nichole are you?-” His words stopped as she began to tilt, he reached out to firmly grasp her shoulder. He had to raise his voice over the music. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine i’m fine,” She slurred, still not finding her balance, “Probably ‘cuz I didn’t eat all day.” 

That alarmed him; he searched for a quick exit off the dance floor. “And why would you do that?” Dysus stepped closer to her and guided her towards the stairs. The lower bar looked like it had chairs for her to sit in. 

“I dunno.” Her head lolled back awkwardly to look at him; her hair coming out of its hold on the small ball. “You’re nice Dysus, you’re really...nice.” 

Unsure how to answer except telling her she was really drunk he still kept a hand on her shoulder, but she seemed okay enough to make it down the steps. The dance floor below was not as crowded, so getting to the bar was easy enough. “Glad you approve. Here, sit down.” He stood up too quickly after Nichole slipped in a booth against the wall, and even _he_ needed a second to find his balance. He was definitely done drinking for the night. 

“What do you have on the levo food menu?” It was a miracle he could even form words right now, his tongue was so numb saying anything was a chore. He kept glancing behind him while the bartender listed off a few entres. Where was this ‘amazing’ boyfriend of hers? He seemed to have disappeared after the shots. 

“Here you go, fifteen credits.” 

It was a ridiculous price but Dysus wasn’t in the mood to argue when even he couldn’t formulate a proper defense right now. He passed the chit over and took the snack. 

Nichole was being difficult all of a sudden by deciding to try and stand back up from the booth. Dysus firmly put her back in the seat. 

“Here, this will help.” He passed her the weird Asari looking snack and a glass of water, slipping into the seat across. The woman gulped a lot of water and nibbled at a fry. 

“I’m usually good at holding my li-liquor. I’m sorry Dysus, you must hate me.” 

He couldn't fathom it. “I don’t hate you Nichole.” He could never hate her. 

The woman swooned over the small meal, “You know Greg had a huge crush on you for a while right? He told me not to tell Kyle, but I think I can tell you." When she was drunk she sure was chatty, but Dysus didn't mind, it was kinda cute. Mentioning Greg was quite the surprise thought. She rested her head in her hand propping her up, "I think he gets it though, but would you date 'im?” 

Dysus knew he would have to talk to Greg about this later, but he wasn't going to dismiss Nichole. “I see Greg more as a friend,” he gave her a small hope of a smile to sooth over the blow. Hopefully he could talk to Greg before Nichole told him. This night is just insane. 

She didn't look at him, finding some important matters at the bottom of the small paper dish, her voice suddenly softer. “Is it because ‘es ‘uman?” 

Dysus didn't have to think long about it. He never considered Human, but there was no reason not to. “No, it’s not because he’s human.” 

She frowned, more in a curious loopy state than disapproving. “Would you eva’ date a human Dysus? Can Turians doooo that?” 

They're soft, curvy, had beautiful pale blue eyes- “I'd be open yes." He was sobering up at an agonizingly slow pace, which is why his words kept coming, "Would you ever date a Turian Nichole?” 

Immediately she scrunched her face up, falling back against the soft leather of the chair, “I can’t. I’m in a relationship with Kyle." She looked around the room. "Where is he? He hates when I leave his sight-” 

No, this wouldn't do. Dysus had another burning question leave his mouthplates before he could take them back. “He did that human kiss thing and you didn’t look happy, why?”

Abort mission. Abort mission.

It didn't make her angry, she actually looked surprised, her small white teeth bitting over her loper lip. “I don’t know. He’s different. I’m not good enough for him anymore…” 

I think you could do better than Kyle.

“Tha’s really sweet Dysus, you’re a good friend.” His blood chilled, he had said that aloud too.

Her hand shot out wildly, before winding back in to cup the side of his face and dragging him right to her. She pressed her soft lips against the bottom of his mandible and quickly pulled away. 

Dysus thought it was a fluke when he stepped in for Kyle that one rehearsal two weeks ago. He was so sure the Spirit of theatre possessed him to feel what he did that day, but just then the same feeling of sparks igniting within him bounced around inside his body. That had to be a fluke didn’t it? It was the booze, the music, the lights all doing this to him, and before it was the adrenaline from being center stage-

Suddenly his face was close to hers, too close, a small faraway voice sounding like his own shouting ‘no’, but liquid courage was in charge now; there was a reason she drove him absolutely mad and Kyle be damned. 

But when he opened his eyes two wide blues were staring back.

He snapped back up, recoiling from the tactical error his drunken mind concocted. “I-uh-” A sputter was barely able to escape him before he backpedaled and dashed from the dance floor. He needed to get away and get away now. 

The change of music grabbed him by his crest and spun him around like a wheel. He lost his balance, stumbling backward and colliding with a strong body. Dysus began apologizing in slurs when the sight of who he crashed into instantly sobered him up. 

“Raj.” 

White colony markings glowed from the blacklight, “Dysus? What are you doing here?”

He couldn’t think of anything to say except repeat what he just heard. “What are you doing here?” 

It worked for now. “I thought about what you've said; here you've been trying new things for the first time in your life and it got me thinking: when have I done anything different? So I suggested to the guys we try out the hottest club in the ward!” Rajil took stock of his current state, his mandibles fluttered, “But you didn’t answer my question-”

“Dysus!” Nichole was calling to him, trying to find her way through the dance crowd to see where he was. She wasn't wobbling violently anymore, which meant she was sobering up, which meant she knew what had just almost happened. 

Not far behind Dysus saw Rico and An'la making their way towards the lower bar, noticing Nichole. 

Soon they would all know, and they would all try and find him, and Rajil would see it and-

Rajil had noticed the group of Humans already, opening his mouth to question it-

Dysus zoned in enough to grab one of the arms in his vision and locked onto something physical, drunkenly swaying and plowing through the crowd to the nearest bathroom. Inside the music muffled with the closing of the door, and now the feelings of inertia were coming to a crashing halt.

“Dysus who are those humans? Why did they know you?” 

Dysus’s brain was firing in all directions with no solid pathway. And with Rajil standing between him and the exit well, Dysus had literally trapped himself with another conversation he wasn’t keen on facing. 

“They invited me here tonight.” 

“You came to meet up with them and not us?” 

Damnit, all the scheduling, all the clear cut preplanned organization set ablaze fright before his eyes. There was no other way out. “Im working with them, I… they’re the company doing that Musical. I’m a part of it.” It should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. The damage had already been done. 

Rajil’s fists clenched at his sides, “The musical?!-” he turned swiftly to the bathroom door, locking it- and them- in. 

He’s never seen his friend so upset in his life, “Raj can we do this-”

“Now, Dysus, and don’t _Raj_ me. I need to know why my best friend has been lying to me.” His gaze was in manager mode, but also beyond that, Dysus knew him long enough that the silence of his subvocals meant he was trying not to appear as hurt as he was. 

He thrummed in guilt and apology, “I wanted to tell you-” 

“And you didn’t, when I distinctly remember asking you if you got in. I knew you were hiding something but this-” He lifted his hands to try and make a point, but stopped. Dysus realized he almost wanted to fight him. A normal thing for Turians to do in an altercation, but still.

He got all tongue tied trying to say anything to turn this around, “Rajil let me-” 

“No Dysus, you don’t get to pick the next move. I do.” rajil took two strong steps forward, but stopped, his eyes glancing him over and for just a second, he relaxed. Then the mask was back on and Dysus shivered, dreading what he said next. “And you’re drunk off your ass, go home and sleep it off. I’m done with this.” 

The tone was direct and separated any bit of the friend he knew. Now Dysus was the kid from accounting. “Yessir.” 

Rajil gave no second look before breaking the lock off to yank the door open, slamming it behind him.

~♫~

He wasn't sure how long he stared at the same spot of the door, but the silence was broken by the squeaking of an opening stall door behind him. A small form saddled up next to him, clinging to his good arm, Dysus turned his head too fast and caused another swirl of fog to roll over his vision, but he knew that pink crop top anywhere. 

“How long you been there?” 

“I herd evrythin,” Greg said too cheerily, but Dysus noticed he was looking a little green. 

“Yeah, well I messed everything up tonight.” Dysus was ready to just crawl under his covers and hide away for the next two, three years. The two of them stood in a solemn silence, swaying to and fro against each other. 

“Sooo is your friend single?” Greg asked with an innocent attempt to break the silence. 

Dysus kept watching the closed door. “He’s dating an Asari.”

“Drat.”

Dysus turned his head to the small human and saw he was in just as bad a shape as he was, but Greg looked about ready to topple over. “I think you've had enough for tonight too.” 

Greg whined, “Can I crash at your place? I don't wanna deal with _him_ tonight.” 

Greg has been a good friend, even with this eccentric nature. They both needed to sleep off the night and figure out how to deal with everything...tomorrow.

“Yeah sure, you can take the couch. Just let your roommates know.” 

“‘Kay.”

Dysus went to the sink to splash some water over his face for the next chapter of the evening when another voice, one much darker, joined the room. 

“Leaving so soon Bird?” 

Kyle steps out of the other stall visibly swaying as badly as they are. If he wasn’t drunk Dysus might not have made it a point to maybe ask what the staff put in the drinks here. How many people were hiding in this bathroom?

Dysus instinctively pushed Greg behind him, “We’re just leaving Kyle.” 

“So little bird boy didn’t tell his friends about us? You embarrassed? Do we embarrass you? Cuz you all hate humans is that right?” Kyle’s swaying evened out with this newfound focus of complete hatred that Dysus was always a target of. And in his state there was no way to talk out of this, not with how the scene was looking. 

“He doesn’t hate us!” Greg gnarly cried, pointing diagonally in his general direction. 

Kyle snapped to the other human, “Oh well I know you’d defend those things. You’re a sick xenophile.” Kyle took a step towards Greg with the accusation, Dysus had to act fast. 

“We’re leaving Kyle, this is no place for this.” 

It fell on deaf ears, Kyle spitting as he continued, “Your kind is nothing but trouble; trigger happy killers the lot of you-” and at that he winded his arm back for a punch. 

Dysus wanted nothing more than to show him who exactly he was going toe to toe with, but with Greg clinging to him for dear life that made him possible collateral, and the fact they were all drunk off their asses in a small enclosed space, and Dysus really really didn’t want to get in trouble if he tore Kyle to shreds, he needed another option. So he did the next best thing; grabbing onto Greg Dysus decoratively slide out of the way from his rushing fist just like in one of the dance routines. The force of his anger in that punch went through the air, carrying Kyle’s body forward to collide with the mirror on the wall. Glass cracked under the pressure. 

Kyle didn’t even notice and shot around to try and attack Dysus again, but when he looked he was gone. 

Dysus got Greg out of there, evasively half carrying him through the bar to the exit, and out into the blinding streets of the lower wards.

Today definitely proved to be an exciting one.


	7. Your Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slapping this LONG CHAPTER together after way too many hours staring at the screen.

His dreams swirled of neon and wisps of brown and flashes of pale blue. Could you be drunk in your dreams? He didn’t know, but he was certainly intoxicated by her phantom form. Pretending was a fool's errand, and it was the graces of waking up he didn’t get lost in the bliss. 

Dysus realized he woke up to a sound. He went for the pistol on his nightstand only to stop once sleep fell away and realizing the groaning from his living room area was from the guest he picked up last night currently in his apartment.

After getting his bearings he dressed at a painstakingly slow pace before making an appearance where a half naked Greg was rolling around on the curved Turian furniture; he was looking as bad as Dysus felt. Greg could really drink. He matched every shot offered and if his memory was correct- and that was debatable at the moment- there was a contest or two he volunteered for. Dysus did a 180 to the kitchen, getting a cup of water for the surely dehydrated man. 

There was dried drool on his cheek but he still gave a happy but sleepy smile at his approach. “Heeeey Dysus. So, funny thing: I’m having a vague memory of stuff happening last night and I gotta ask: how bad was it?” 

The human was embarrassed, trying to hide behind his youthful charms. Dysus hummed in thought, sticking to the lighter hearted version of events. “Well you didn’t end up in a cell.”

Greg lifted his head (barely) and his arm to take the glass, but stopped halfway and stuck his face under his arm. His nose crinkled and his eyes squeezed shut in an expression Dysus has seen a handful of times from his experience with the rehearsals. Asari would do it sometimes when they came across something that irked or disgusted them. “Sweet Jesus, I'm rank. Can I use your shower? I doubt I could at the apartment because there's one for all of us to share.” 

“Down the hall on the left.” The human chugged down the water, needing some assistance off the couch and a slight guidance in the right direction before he was on his own. Alone in the kitchen Dysus meandered to the cabinets, pulling out a pot to boil some water for a more fiber induced breakfast. There was no worries, just two dudes recovering from a coworkers' night out. Still, Dysus couldn't remember a time he ever partied that hard. The humans made it seem like a common occurrence. Although his tossing of credits to the bartender definitely didn't help.

The species may have been vastly underestimated beyond military power. 

He popped a few painblockers, turning on the news only to turn it back off once realizing the noises were a little too much too soon. 

Dysus was definitely hung over. In more ways than one. 

So much had happened last night

His brain rattled again with a loud knocking at his front door, which annoyed him long before surprising him.

Dysus went through the mental list of who could be here so early in the morning. The only person who usually came by unannounced was- 

On cue the door opened, a storming vision of dark plated Turian trudging through. Confused noises barely registered from Dysus which also fell unheard as his companion brushed right past him. He looked like he hadn’t slept, and he wasn’t even in his work clothes yet. Of course one of the people he wasn't sure he was ready to face had the codes to his apartment; Dysus mentally kicked himself for that trust. “Look, this isn't for pleasantries, I'm still pissed off at you. How you could just lie to me like that as if we weren’t best friends really itches my plates.” The door closed behind Lyla- who was in her work clothes- and she shot Dysus a look he could not decipher while she marched to the chair at the kitchen island counter. She crossed one leg over the other in her skin tight pants and minimal shirt; she had this air around her that she was a judge about to oversee a legal exchange that made Dysus nervous. Ten minutes. he couldn't go ten minutes without causing some sort of incident that needed all attention.

Rajil had refused to look Dysus in the eye since his entrance, instead pacing in the small kitchen area with his back to him; in Turian culture this would be seen as a sign of disrespect. His subvocals were being tightly controlled which also concerned him. “-But you’re still like a brother to me and _maybe_ I overreacted. But I still deserved to know. And _maybe_ Lyla suggested I come over and try to fix things.” Out of the corner of Dysus’s vision Lyla gave a nod, like a mother appraising a child for owning up to their mistakes. Rajil, after a long beat and the sound of water bubbling in the pot, sharply turned and lifted something in his hand to him. He waved a bag from one of their favorite breakfast places. “So...here. Peace offering.” 

Dysus took the bag and carefully placed it on the counter to showcase his acceptance. Guilt and shame bubbled inside him. As last night’s events became more clear he realized how much he had miscalculated. With all the planning, all the separating it was leaving him exhausted. And the show hadn’t even started yet, and even then they would be running for a few more weeks-

“Come on Dysus don’t give me the silent treatment.” 

Dysus came back to reality; Rajil standing as tall as one could when admitting defeat. He took a deep breath, “Rajil, you were right. I had every opportunity to tell you what was happening and I chose not to. There’s no excuse.” 

Another nod on Lyla’s behalf. Rajil tilting his head, wiggling his mandibles as he always did when teasing him, “Really? Not one? Nothing to do with your Father finding out? Because you know I wouldn’t tell him right?” 

Dysus rubbed his crest, the pain in his head was still fading away. Another feeling in his chest- one more chastising that Rajil would ever have to verbally say such a thing made him feel well, silly. “I didn’t think I'd get this far.” Which was true, he had no expectations of being around the company this long. And now that he thought about it, it was indeed a huge accomplishment. His scheduling did one thing right. 

Lyla spoke up for the first time with a scoff, “Really. You’re the _lead_ _role_ Dysus, how much further can you get with this kind of thing?” 

He snapped to the Asari, “How did you know?” Lyla was as sharp as a knife, if she had indeed pestered her coworkers about the musical, and found out, he would have known long ago.

Rajil cleared his larynx behind a muffled cough, “I may have interrogated one of the humans before I left. It's all a blur: short, wearing a hat and saying something like ‘please don’t break me’. If ya see him apologize to me alright?” 

Dysus nodded, having a pretty clear idea which tech member his friend had shaken down. “I’m not the lead Rajil, i’m the understudy-” 

Lyla interjected immediately, “It’s the same damn thing. Bottom line you have a role- two actually.” She reached down on the counter to pluck at the bowl of Asari treats he leaves out for these types of visits. 

The ari around them had settled down; a fleeting moment of normalcy returning to his spartan apartment. The takeout bags were shuffled to the parallel counter, “So why don’t we enjoy some breakfast together and you can fill us in about your side job. No more secrets between us-” Rajil continued into the kitchen to grab some plates when he stopped, craning his neck towards the hallway at a very distinct sound of a bathroom door opening. The normalcy was gone again. “Dysus." Rajil slowly turned his head to flair dramatics with a foreboding tone, "Is someone here?” 

“Uh-” 

The pot on the stove shot out a stream of hot steam from the crack under the lid, a light whistling noise taking effect. 

“Dysus did you bring someone home last night?” Rajil was going through a mix of horror and excitement, to which Dysus needed to reel him back from immediately. 

“It’s not what you think-” 

Bad choice of works. “So the rumors are half true, you are seeing someone! Who are they?” 

His manager tone was slipping through, Dysus gestured to the stovetop with the rapid bubbling water. “Rajil the -”

Dysus was intercepted by the bulky form, purposely blocking his path with both his arms out. “I'm not moving from this spot until you tell me! No more secrets you promised!”

Even though Rajil was technically his manager there were times he still acted like a fledgeling. 

“Not hanging out with us because of the job is one thing, but I knew I noticed something about you- it's all in the subvocals! Who are they?” 

Dysus sent a pleading look to Lyla at the counter, returning him with the cockiest grin in existence. The woman loved to observe other people's lives too much to try and help with anything. With her eyes and Rajil's prodding, no wonder they made such a good team. Dysus pushed passed Rajil once his defenses were down, yanking the lid off the pot before the buildup caused an explosion. Bubbles flowed over and sank into the red ring, sizzling them up to nothing. 

“Is it casual? When did you meet? She Turian? Did you set him up?-” He turned suddenly to point an accusatory talon at his mate, who made a face. 

“I’ve introduced him to everyone I know. Wasn’t me.” 

“I...uh…” Dysus wished he was a good liar, that would make more than his scene work at rehearsal easier. Explaining not seeing someone was going to be tough with a human being in his apartment. “I’m not seeing anyone she-” 

Wait. Why in all things did he say ‘she’?

Rajil caught that immediately, getting in his space again, “aaaahhhhh she?” 

If things couldn’t get any worse that was the exact moment a dark skinned human threw himself out from around the corner. “I KNEW IT-” 

Ah damnit, “Greg-” 

“Duke owes me ten bucks!” 

Rajil twisted around in shock to the addition to the room. “Who is-”

Dysus tried to start making sense, “Uh Raj I-”

“Such a shame,” Greg pulled one of Dysus’ towels off his head that had been tightly wrapped revealing his darker and more damp hair. “I was still hoping it was me.” 

“Greg I- wait what?”

There was a chaotic stalemate happening in his own living space and any chance of hiding Greg away and pretending this wasn't happening flew out the window. Lyla was laughing, probably at him, and Rajil was waiting for answers impatiently. Dysus thrummed annoyance and was glad he had taken a painblocker- though he needed three more all of a sudden. “This is my scene partner and coworker-”

“Oh shit! I have to tell Nichole-” 

The panic struck him cold. Dysus practically threw himself over the counter in a move close to firefights in the military to make it to Greg before he could lift his arm to access his Omni-Tool. He grabbed his forearm. “Greg no.” He tried to command without letting Rajil note the slight slight change in his subvocals. “Don't tell her anything.”

Tell her what exactly? There was nothing in words to convey why he was suddenly living up the hype as the three people in the room. What did he think Greg would tell Nichole? That he enjoys spending time with her? Or was it what Greg would draw a conclusion to based on nothing but him and the other cast members quick minds.

He drew a blank, his mouth was running more than he had control over it. It must be a theatre thing. Greg was making assumptions that made dangerous gossip; gossip Dysus did not want to be the subject of; he has already been a major topic for the last several weeks. Greg was not phased by the order, maybe even a little amused by it. He pulled from Dysus with a sly smile and introduced himself to the others in the room. Enthusiastically he waved to Rajil, giving him a firm handshake before turning to the Asari. 

“You must be his girlfriend? Damnit…” The curse was barely below his breath but definitely meant to be heard, yet he still took out his hand for a friendly shake. Lyla hesitated, but for the sake of embracing this bizarre morning she complied, making it a short touch. Her mate didn’t seem to hear Greg’s comment, being more distracted by the last thirty seconds of dialogue. 

He hummed in thought again which was a red flag. “Nichole, that’s not a Turian name. Or Asari.” 

Dysus saw Greg lock on target but it was too late to stop him, “Yeah, cuz she’s human. She’s our lead.” He prided, both of his hands on his hips. 

This needed to stop, and reverse, and have a complete redo. “Greg please, please stop helping. Here-” Dysus went into his pocket and took out a credit chit, setting it to a particular overestimated amount. “There should be enough for a transit ride and for some breakfast. I’ll see you later ok?” He slapped it in Greg’s hands and pushed him towards the door by the shoulders. 

Greg was definitely not drunk and still being his happy self, looking over his shoulder and calling, “Hey do you happen to know any single friends? Have Dysus give me their info!-” Dysus shoved him out the door and shut it, leaving him still in the den of varren. Crisis control. “Let's just all take a second and go back to eating- what are you doing?” 

Rajil took a moment to type away at his Omni-Tool. “Im pushing my meetings and getting my uncle over here.”

Dysus checked the time, more out of desperation than anything. He did not need to add more people to this already convoluted and strange morning. Ten minutes. he needed ten minutes to collect his thoughts. He was both horrified and relieved at the time stamp numbers glowing at him. 

“Ah fuck I can’t i’m late.” Dysus replied lamely, having little patience to gently end the ensuing plotting from his friends. He long lost his appetite and figured to just dump the hot water down the drain. He could go to the diner for a quick bite when they had a break. When there was no response he finally looked up; 

They stared at him like they saw a dead person walk. What did Dysus do now? Rajil's hand was hovering over his holo keyboard, mandibles slack. “Who are you and what have you done with Dysus?” 

Dysus blinked; Lyla continued her mate's train of thought: “We’ve never heard you swear like that, ever.” 

Even unsure when he began using such profanity, but aware of where he got it from, Dysus instead began sorting the mess of his living space the best he could. “Make fun of me later. I promised I would help the technical crew move in the new theatre today.” How Greg managed to make such chaos of his sleeping arrangements was beyond him. 

Rajil and Lyla stood up at the same time, “We’ll drop you off.”

Dysus turned as the two brandished the key to their transportation; feeling like a bribe more than anything, but their wicked smiles gave him no comfort. 

Dysus felt a little sheepish for once, “Fine, but you stay in the skycar.” This was going to be like his ship off date to boot wasn’t it? 

Then again, it could be worse. His father could be here. 

~♫~

When she was a kid, Nichole was always taught the power of kindness. To ‘never judge a book by its cover’ and to win over people with compassion rather than hate. It has indeed bitten her in the ass more than a handful of times when going into the arts as a career, but there were enough stuck up bitches in the field to derail her from temptation to add to it. 

Not many people know she hadn’t met a single alien in person until she came to the Citadel, and she would say she’s done fairly well masking her surprise and curiosity. The only person who knew that was the Hanar she met on the transport; Nichole could not tear herself away from that sight. Someone had failed to mention to her the casual existence of giant jellyfish people. 

Even though Humans were a minority, and obviously looked down at a lot, and she had zero credits to her name and was struggling on a daily basis, Nichole took every opportunity and duty of her as an actress in stride- even when it meant waking up after four hours of sleep to prep herself up and do an interview. It was for the company, it was for the show, and bottom line it was for Britton. For most professional companies she would be paying their staff for most they provide for the show, but in this case it was half charity. Britton couldn’t afford a lot of the marketing or equipment, relying on contacts, connections, deals, and solely the support and hard work of the cast and crew. Nichole expected this, after all the show wouldn’t mean much to anyone if they didn’t work for it. In this market they had to work hard, harder than most of them have in years. Britton Lorenzo was also a fairly lucky man; it wasn’t a huge mystery how he landed an interview with a local radio show. 

The radio show she was looking forward to doing until it all went to shit. She had the good graces to get up, look as decent as one would from a night of heavy partying, and met up with Britton early before making their way to the small station in one of the nicer- not nicest- wards. Hopkins was in charge of the theatre at the moment, making sure tech was on schedule and cleared enough out of the way for the minor rehearsal in the space. Nichole kept her composure and rallied with small talk and pleasantries with the two DJ’s- humans if one could believe, even though her and Britton were seething with worry and rage wondering the same thing. 

Where the hell was Kyle? 

Punctuality was a varying thing for Nichole as well, she couldn’t be bothered with time on her off hours, but when it came to this very important thing for the sake of Britton’s show, time was everything. 

“Nice setup you got.” Britton praised sitting in one of the comfy swivel chairs, admiring the recording studio they were in. 

The woman smirked, or at least Nichole thought it was a smirk, her lips were the only thing she could really see beneath the shrouded hood she wore. On her plump, pretty lips was a tattoo of some sort: two dark blocks descending from her mouth. She was very mysterious looking at first glance, but she was also a DJ with only her voice to reach the public, so who really cared what she wore to work. Maybe it was a part of her DJ identity. Regardless she was incredibly friendly and confident. Her partner was equally as kind, which made it extra upsetting knowing the guests of the studio were pushing their hospitality by having a key member late. 

DJ Little Bird (As she introduced herself) turned fully to Britton from her own special chair, giving a clear view of her body tight suit that made Nichole wonder what made her want to commit so badly when no one could see her? “Thank you, top of the line stuff.” 

“Where’d you get it all?” The actress couldn’t contain her curiosity. She’s been in a few radio stations on earth, and some of them didn’t look as nice as this. Did they also bring this from Earth in hopes of starting a career amongst aliens? Maybe there was a market they could look into for their own theatre. 

Little Bird’s partner, DJ Facto, gave a light chuckle that warmed her from the inside out. Someone who was laughing at a reference of some sort Nchole didn’t know about. “Here and there, we worked hard to get our little studio up and running. 

DJ Facto was a very relaxed man, more in charge of the technical side of things than his counterpart, but they both seemed equality as intelligent and focused. They obviously enjoyed working together. 

“I love your ink!” Little Bird cooed, pointing at the exposed skin of her ankle from the low top converses. Nichole gave a bittersweet smile, her mind on the small tattoo she allowed to air out for once. She definitely wasn’t a sandal person, which was unfortunate to be hiding the artwork on a daily basis due to her rehearsals. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything less than hard-sole shoes in the Pit. 

“Thank you,” She grinned. Nichole held her posture on the chair, aware of Little Bird eyeing the art for more than its color and saturation: Nichole was very proud of how the Rose came out. It was a tiny thing, no more than three inches in height, but she knew the woman was trying to read the small print next to it. 

“Why don't we get started?” DJ Facto suggested, leaning forward in his chair to the monitors and equipment on the desk in front of him. “When he gets here we can add him in post.” 

It was a stroke of good fortune the interview was being recorded, and not done live. 

“We would appreciate that, thank you.” Britton fell into good graces once more, but Nichole knew he was going to have a talk with the actor following whenever he decided to arrive. 

Fifteen minutes later the door quietly opened behind them just as Nichole was in her element excitedly discussing her first impression of the Citadel. 

“You started without me,” came the slightly amused tone of his voice. Kyle was wearing his jacket again, but this time it was draped over his shoulder rather than wearing it like a proper human being. Nichole saw signs of a hangover, but more than that, a sort of frustration behind his eyes. He gave her a stare that sent chills down her body. The errieness got worse as she took a seat against the wall and wheeled it right next to her. His hands went to her chin, turning her face to his so he could plant an abrupt kiss on her lips. 

“You left us no choice.” Britton kept his cool even when lightly frustrated, especially around guests and strangers. It was a good thing he was talented with talking shop. “This is DJ Little Bird and Facto, we were discussing the change of moving to the Citadel from Earth.”

“Are you two together?” Little Bird asked excitedly, leaning forward but away from her microphone to ask. Nichole attempted to steer the conversation away from the topic, but Kyle had his charm face on where one wouldn’t be able to see any trace of late night drinking. 

Kyle was very good at hiding it like she was. 

“Indeed we are. We met doing Theatre years back; been together ever since.” She turned to give Nichole a smile that should have been comforting, but instead it felt more like a warning. “She couldn’t resist my charms.” 

“I’m a sap for romance like that; couples who also work together in the same field.” Little Bird gave a discrete look to her DJ partner, who beamed back with a look only a lover could give. “Why don’t you answer some of the questions we already crossed off, and then i’d love to hear about it. Leads of the musical: leading humanity in the arts! I can see it now!” The woman was enjoying herself with this, brightening up a hundred times more with the mention of a relationship behind the scenes of this production. Nichole held an uneasy smile the rest of the interview. Little Bird and Facto still asked their normal questions, and prodded a little about her personal life with Kyle. 

Kyle was right, it would be great PR, and for the sake of the show, and Britt, she answered them as best she could. But a small voice was whispering to her from her shoulders, a conscience maybe? Something telling her to stop. 

Anything for the show to succeed. 

Then, in one swift motion Kyle gestured wildly into the air during a tale of the traveling show he had just been on when the left arm beneath the jacket revealed itself to expose a bandaged, swollen hand. Nichole couldn't help but gasp, what the hell had happened? 

“That looks like it hurt, what happened?” Britton eyes him with interest, knowing deep down he was genuinely concerned but not wanting to alarm the DJ’s- or possibly Amy Hopkins who _did not know or tell him Kyle had been injured_. 

Kyle feigned surprised, glancing at his hand like it was a mystery to him. “Oh this? Just a scratch from last night.” 

“What happened last night?” Facto inquired, adjusting some of the faders on the soundboard. Britton and Nichole waited for an answer, because they needed to know, but were weary as to why he would want to talk about this now in the middle of an interview. 

Kyle gave Nichole a small smile as if it would help, “We were out celebrating; we’ve worked very hard and Lorenzo got us a theatre to perform in. We weren’t exactly welcomed, a lot of dirty looks because we’re human.” 

“I don’t recall any of that.” 

“You were super drunk Nikki; she drinks like a monster.” He stage whispered to the DJ’s. “Good thing I had eyes on you babe.” He put his good arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, his hand patting her shoulder blade like a pet. Nichole frowned instead of fighting him as her mind shifted gears. That definitely was conflicting with her minimal memory, or even if she didn’t remember- it was conflicting with what her gut was telling her. 

But still…

Was he right? She did drink a lot, and the time in her room after was a nightmare of twisting, turning, and trips to the bathroom. How could she rely on her scattered memory? How much did she actually know? Kyle looked after her.

Right?

Kyle had his audience captivated by his story like it was meant to be put on radio. “Then, on my way home I got jumped by Krogan.”

Krogan? Nichole felt fear on his behalf. She has not had any discussions with the large behemoth creatures, but they always looked ready to kill, kill her specifically whenever she passed one by. Out of all the species they worried her the most. Kyle seemed to sense her apprehension and held her tighter, “They were looking for an easy fight. Me: an unarmed human. Asked me where I was going, I said home because I had rehearsal tomorrow. That’s when they found out about the musical.” Kyle brandished his wounded hand again, “They made a move and I just swung trying to defend myself. Didn’t do much damage but I made enough of a fuss so they would leave me alone; showed them what a ‘weak’ human could really do.” He beamed, and Nichole felt a sense of pride in that- if it was true. Then she took a longer gaze at his bandaged hand with dried blood stains that bled through. The way his hand was completely still; the injury was real. And if he was threatened on the streets, Kyle would defend himself no questions asked. 

“You punched a Krogan?” Little Bird asked bewildered, leaning into her microphone this time. 

“Aliens don’t like that we are here. Many of them want to see us shut down or worse. We’ll show them.” 

“It’s not broken, I will still be able to play my part. Nothing will get in the way of this.” 

“We do have other species in our cast,” Britton interrupted, “One of our named characters is played by an Asari: lovely talented girl. And one of our understudies-” 

“Has definitely made some choices, and sure not all aliens think the same way. But we have to make them see that we are not to be pushed aside.”

Who was this rallying man sitting next to her? Nichole failed to see. The rest of the interview left her feeling more on guard than she wanted, and any question she had begun to answer with interest was interrupted by her supposed boyfriend. He had all the answers, her mind recalled from previous conversations. Let him talk, he always knows what to say. 

So she fell more silent with each question, willing time to move quicker. 

Less than an hour later Britton was shaking their hands enthusiastically, thanking them again for their time (and extra time from the late start). Little Bird and Facto were gracious, informing them they will edit it as soon as possible and will let them know of the airing date and time and to ‘tune in to CT 65.0’ for the final product. Just hearing about it made her gut knot up. If she could take a out a few things said during the interview, maybe it wouldn’t come of so...strong. Britton voiced a similar concern of making sure they looked presentable, and Little Bird assured him they would ‘clean it up’. But that could mean anything. It could just be deleting the pauses in between or ridding of a conversation/storytime they didn’t need to put out there. It left Nichole in an odd mood as they left the building and walked among citizens of the Citadel of the upper levels. More tourist foot traffic was around here. After a few minute walk Britton said he needed to dodge in a restroom for a minute saying to go on without him. Nichole refused, saying she was in no rush and didn’t mind waiting for him. 

Kyle tried getting her to leave with him, but she put her foot down. Britton was completely capable, but it didn’t sit right with her to just abandon him even though they were going to part ways anyway. He was going straight to the new Theatre after this to check in on the progress. Nichol was planning on returning to the apartment to make herself some breakfast and do some personal scene work before rehearsal. 

Maybe a nap if time allowed. But it probably wouldn’t. 

The chatter of dozens of conversations and bargaining around her calmed her nerves just the slightest; a reminiscence of home. A piece of her ached with homesickness as she leaned against the wall across from the public restroom. Sure a city is a city and this one wasn’t much different, but there was still something missing that made the contrast obvious. 

“I got you to take care of me.” 

Nichole snapped her attention back to Kyle, who had been talking to her for who knows how long. She was really deep in her thoughts. “Hm?” She asked quietly, hoping to not offend him by her selfishness. Kyle scoffed, rolling his eyes in a look that cried ‘unbelievable’. “I was saying you’re going to have to help me with this injury of mine. Ease up on the dancing, carrying my bag, that sort of thing.”

Nichole glanced at his hand he nursed against his chest beneath the jacket-cloak. “It’s not broken though, so it will heal soon enough.” She glanced towards the restroom as a figure exited, but alas it was a Batarian. 

“I still will need some help Nikki. I can rely on you right? My girlfriend?” he emphasized the word girlfriend and Nichole flinched. She held some animosity about that still. A feeling that hadn’t gone away despite Kyle’s assurances that this was the right thing. 

She was saved by Britton who hobbled his way out of the doors, putting his hands in his pockets as he approached. Did he look that exhausted before? Nichole caught herself staring at the dark circles under his eyes, she opened her mouth to suggest maybe returning to the complex with them, but he gave her a look that told her he was fine. 

“You’re taking a skycar right?” Nichole prompted as they continued on. She was planning on walking to the public transport because it was cheaper, but she wasn’t leaving until she knew Britton was going to be alright. 

He smiled at her. “Yes I'm taking a skycar. You sure you don’t want to come? I’ll pay.” Nichole shook her head immediately right as Kyle opened his mouth to accept-

“No no, public is fine for me. I could use the walk.” She said it to try and lighten the mood, but the truth was she was very tired and didn’t want to waste extra credits on a private shuttle no matter how tempting. Kyle made a noise behind her but said nothing for once. 

They made it to the transport call and after a quick goodbye Nichole gave in to the urging demands from Kyle and allowed him to start pulling her away. 

“He can take care of himself.” Kyle suddenly chastised, pulling her harshly on a change of path to avoid the Elcor in proximity. 

Nichole knew Britton was tougher than he looked. He was a veteran for pete’s sake, but that didn’t mean Nichole had to care any less. She felt it her responsibility to make sure he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. And Kyle of all people should know why she did such. 

With that a part of her felt like she’d been struck. She searched Kyle’s profile for any sign that he had overstepped his assumptions. But there was no thought about it at all. She scowled, radiating enough hurt feelings for him to feel the fire. He gave her a quizzical look. 

Nichole didn’t want to go home with him anymore. 

“I don’t think this is working.” Her mouth blurted before she even had a proper second to think. She slowed her pace so abruptly Kyle’s grasp slipped. 

He tilted his head so one of the long bangs drifted over his eyes, his uninjured hand went up to adjust the jacket on his shoulder. “What?” 

The word was very low on a completely different level than normal that caused any proper speech to brake in her throat and climb back down to her spine. “I don’t know. I just. I think we need some space.” 

_I think you could do better than Kyle_ , a voice not hers whispered in her ears. She shook her head, confused where that came from. Another part of her was agreeing to the ghostly statement. Then that part felt guilty, because no, that wasn’t true she just needed some _time_. 

“Space from what?” It was Kyle’s turn to be confused, his free hand clenching at his sides. Nichole wrapped her arms around herself to make a verbal shield. People were staring at the scene that was starting to look like a confrontation the way Kyle towered before her. 

“Each other.” It was one of the hardest things she had to do, but she obviously wasn’t in the headspace for this. She wasn’t able to keep up as Kyle’s trophy girlfriend right now. There was something wrong with her. “Kyle there’s just a lot going on right now and ‘us’ is stressing me out.” He would understand, after everything she’s been through he had to because he said he would always have her back. Well this was the test. 

Kyle’s face turned red and he straightened so quickly he looked ten feet taller and Nichole had to take a step back. “You’re stressed? I had Krogan attack me and _you’re_ stressed?” He was in front of her now, noticing the stares and dipped his tone even lower, the closest thing to a growl she’s ever heard. “You never have anything to worry about Nichole, you know why? Because I’ve always protected you.” 

“Well right now I need a friend, not a bodyguard.” Nichole turned her body away from him, nailing him down with her stare. “I’m sorry you got hurt Kyle, and I’ll help how I can, but I don’t think we should be together right now.” Her heart was pounding in her chest, scared of something that was about to happen. It was a crazy thought, Kyle would never hurt her. 

And yet the look in his eyes gave her a feeling otherwise. He looked wildly around the walking path as citizens pointed and whispered. Kyle flicked his head back to whip the bangs from his eyes and bit down on his lips. “We’re discussing this at the apartment.” 

But she didn’t want to, yet his word was final. 

He took a step towards her, racing out his hand to beckon her to go with him. Behind her she glanced to see a skycar landing at the platform next to Britton. She shook her head. “I need some space Kyle, please.” She didn’t hear his response, she twisted away and nearly jogged to the skycar. “Britton wait!” She called, leaping in the shuttle next to him. Twenty meters away Kyle shot her a glare, but did not follow. The doors closed and she relaxed, the tension she had been holding falling away at the change of scenery. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms, she hugged herself for a sort of comfort. 

“Everything ok?” 

Britton looked at her concerned. He always could tell. Nichole forced a small smiled and nodded, “Yeah just, need to get away for awhile.” 

He beamed, “Want to meet the tech crew then! There might be something for you to do if you want a change of pace!” He began listing off things on his personal agenda that needs to be done with the move in; Nichole was happy for the distraction. 

The rest of the roommates in the Theatre House were either sleeping off hangovers or at their work shifts. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in the apartment with Kyle. She needed to cool off, and so did he. Maybe they could talk about this another time, when the show wasn’t in the middle of being constructed. 

Maybe, maybe then. But right now she really did need a change. 

~♫~

Asari architecture was reminiscent of space age design, Nichole mused. It was all curvy and airy as opposed to the grand stuffy buildings she’s seen by both human and alien construction. The outside of the theatre was still the same, Britton shaking her with anticipation of his grand plans for the exterior decorations before opening. 

The lobby was beautiful. There was a sleek, curved dome ceiling dotted with dozens of lights in geometric patterns. In front of her she recognized ticket booths lined up on both walls between a long set of chrome doors tempting you closer. The sheek tile beneath them was draped in two thin, long display carpets. Britton had confessed it was indeed an old Asari strip club, but damn if this wasn't the fanciest, grandest strip club building she’s ever seen. There was a smell though, stale perfumes trapped inside for who knows how long after however long it's been in business. Years and years of people’s aroused scents were drifting around them in tiny particles. A little disturbed, Nichole figured a good thorough cleaning and some incense could make a difference. 

Inside the house itself...

Britton gave Nichole the biggest smile similar to when you're about to give your best friend a birthday present. Tiptoeing backwards to the main door in building suspense he pulled the door open and ushered her inside. 

It wasn’t the largest space when it came to depth, but when craning her neck she saw that the ceiling was taller than she imagined, twirling in her spot she followed the ceiling to see that this place had balconies probably with private dancing tables scattered about. She could definitely see the strip club portion clearer now. In its prime it might be nicer than the top clubs she’s ever been to. Long curved sofas lined in stadium seating in front of a curved proscenium stage with draping velvety red curtains. Two bars sat at opposite sides against the walls. Cables and metal hanging cages hung above their heads for changing lights and fly systems for trapeze and aerial stunts. 

It was dark, it was red, it was perfect. She could basically read his mind what he wanted tot urn it into, because a part of her saw her favorite century old movie coming to life with enough polish. 

Members of the technical crew were scattered around like ants, some dropping off crates of equipment in designated dump piles, others barking for proper inventory check. She saw a handful already huddled around power boxes, probably trying to map out how the hell human theatre lights were going to work. If anyone could do it: Britton's hires could.

“It needs a lot of work, but we can mold it to fit the theme of our show. They have no idea they actually helped us. HA!” Britton looked like he struck gold with this musty place, and it made Nichole smile. 

“It’s a small house..” She began not meaning to put a damper on things,, but more seats meant more money, which meant profit from this huge chance of a project. And people’s livelihoods, even the size could damper some hope. Britton gave a sad sigh, 

“Yeah it’s not the ideal one thousand seating of our last shows…” He placed a supporting hand on her shoulder, “But we’ll make it work. It will still be special. It will be ours. And I will squeeze in as many as we can _within fire code rules_ ,” He added quickly, pure determination glowing around him. “Or if it goes well we can have a longer run.” 

That made her feel better immediately. There was a lot to do, but there was still time before their planned opening. She put on her determined face and look him straight in the eye. “What can I do to help?” She knew jack-shit about most of the tech, but could help unload. Anything to keep her occupied for the next few hours before the small rehearsal. 

“Britton, when’d you get in?” The commanding voice of the hard strong Stage Manager greeted, more frazzled than calm. On a day like this Nichole could only guess why. Britton gave her a grin, 

“Just arrived, things are going quicker than I thought. You’re a champion Amy.” 

She blew a raspberry, her hair was in a baseball cap today with a line of highlighters clipped to the brim. “Gosh no, we still have a mess on our hands, but you’re uh- specialty delivery is where you wanted it by the way.” Britton beamed again, the bags under his eyes less noticeable. Amy checked her Omni-Tool before changing the topic, “I gotta make sure the doofuses don’t mix up the props with the costumes. Oh and Ne’line is around here somewhere, she’s giving Gaia a brief tour.” 

Nichole raised an eyebrow. Britton frowned, “She’s here already?”

Hopkins shrugged, “She was interested in seeing your vision before the rehearsal.” Amy left them at that, barking towards the backstage area following a loud noise of something being dropped.

“Easy! Easy!” A new voice shouted from above with warning and worry. The two turned to crane their heads up at the balconies where a duo was making their way down some stairs. Nichole recognized the large out of place form of Dysus lifting a large sturdy object with careful consideration. Trailing at the opposite end was a much smaller, slightly struggling female form lifting with small strained gasps. With the limited lights currently on Nichole saw a flash of solid purple and a helmet. The figure was a Quarian, it must be the Quarian Britton had mentioned hiring. 

Hovering around them with the very heavy object was a thin human man with his own baseball cap, overseeing the transportation very closely, as if his eyes would pop out of his skull if the package was veering too close to a table or chair. 

Eventually the team made it to a table smack in the middle of the upper floor at the edge of the balcony in line with the stage. Dysus made a count, pulling most of the weight- literally- to give ease to the poor Quarian and putting the huge device on the table. The man hobbled around to take a good look, first to make sure it was even, secondly to make sure there wasn’t a scratch. He wiped the sides like one would stroke their prized mercedes. “I'm so glad you’re ok.” 

“You didn't say that after that light fell on my foot.” Dysus quipped, crossing his arms over his chest. The quarian giggled next to him. Nichole’s breath caught, before she thought better of herself. Of course Dysus was here helping, he always seemed to be a lending hand to Britton and his long list of projects for a basic functioning production. Britton had told her he even had a job, how the hell he could do all three was bizarre to her. 

“Yeah well source fours are sturdy it was going to be _fine_.” Nichole did not recognize this technician, he must be a new hire for the show. A lot of the tech crew were new to her, carry-overs from the touring show Britton just did. She’s been getting to know the cast so well over rehearsals she hasn’t had any time to properly talk to any crew members. She drank with them sure, but that wasn't really enough was it? And here they were working so hard today getting their home in decent shape. 

And Dysus was here helping them. 

“Jeff!” The trio twisted around to look down at their Director. He waved a hand behind Nichole’s back to take a step forward, as if it would made their circle any smaller. “Nichole you know Dysus: Dysus Nichole Nichole Dysus.” Nichole couldn’t help but smile. From where she stood she couldn’t see the details of his face, but the slight turn of his head told her he was, looking away from her? “Nichole this is some of my crew. The jerk with the hat is our Light and Sound Board Operator and part Designer: Mr Moreau.” 

“You can just call me Joker,” He crossed his arms casually, popping the brim of his hat to expose more of his face. 

Britton then pointed to the Quarian girl standing next to him. “And this is the Quarian I was telling you about.” He murmured before speaking aloud in a sort of praise, “She’ll be helping with the lights and dimmers.” 

The Quarian placed an arm over her chest and nodded in a way of greeting, “Tali'Zorah nar Rayya.” 

Nichole smiled at the youthfullness of the girl willing to dive head first into this weird little industry, giving her a polite wave, “Nichole Lovette: I’m playing Satine.” 

“Oooo the leading lady,” Joker whistled, earning harsh looks by both aliens on either side of him. He stopped but shrugged, unfazed by either of them. Nichole could tell why Britton hired a man like him. With a huge job like this, he had to be good despite any wonderful side effects of personality. 

“Dysus Gracchus.” A well aged, familiar, and strict dual toned voice appeared, and from Nichole’s view she witnessed Dysus’s spine snap straight as a rod. Nichole followed the voice to see the Turian Priestess standing calmly in front of the stage looking up to her student. How her voice could carry so well and yet be so relaxed- well shit maybe Nichole should take lessons? “We have an appointment today.” 

“Uh. Yes Ma’am.” Dysus replied with what Nichole noted was disappointment followed by his gaze lingering over the various tech crates. She wanted to giggle, a male who wanted to play with the toys rather than go to class.

A light chuckle came from nearby, and Ne’line appeared next to the Priestess as graceful as ever, calling up to reassure him. “Not to worry Dysus, there will still be plenty of things you can help with for weeks to come. Your lesson is more important.” 

Britton looked to the watch on his wrist, “Ah you’re right. Idea!” He cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice, “Attention! Attention everyone! Why don’t you all come down to the house!” 

The staff slowly stopped around the various pockets in the building, after a few minutes of reminders, one loud repeat by a bellowing Hopkins from backstage tech crew members filed out of their working stations into the house, crowding around the seats equal radius from Lorenzo. From above Nichole noted the trio heading to a door to make their way down. When everyone gathered Nichole caught their confused looks. 

Then Dysus entered, looking around at the Priestess, the techies, Nichole- darting away from her gaze to instead rest on Britton with a question on his lips (or his version of lips). 

Britton didn’t need to hear the visible question, “Oh did I not tell you? Your rehearsal will be on the stage today!” 

His posture suffered from the verbal blow. “What? Why?” Nichole caught the way his mandibles kept flickering away from his face, the chords in his neck tightening with a nervous vibration. Britton leaned back against one of the support columns, “Well we haven’t set up the music rooms yet, and I have a huge surprise.” He waved his hands at the Quarian Tali, who’s pale bright eyes from behind the purple tinted helmet went wide with realization. She darted through the tech crowd mumbling ‘sorry, sorry, excuse me, sorry!’ all the way to the stage where she slipped behind the curtain. Britton gave her a moment, “Tali! The switch!” 

The Quarian gave a meek acknowledgement before a beat passed, and a creaking of machinery above them was the only indication before the large red drapes began to split apart and pull away off to the sides. The stage was filled with crap from the move, shoved to the back and sides for minimal walking paths, but what caught her eye shot her in the heart. She started running before the curtains even stopped. 

“Where did you get this?” She cried, her hands out daring to touch the shiny, brand new instrument. She laughed to herself with glee, she couldn’t believe it: a real honest to God grand piano. It was jet black with that new manufacturing smell. The keys bleach white with a small well-padded chair. Behind her reflection was a distorted image of a Turian with his head to the side with curiosity. It was endearing in a way.

Britton sat on the edge of the stage to turn his body's leverage around to get up. “I want to hear you sing boy! Hear all that progress Ne’line has been telling me about.” 

“I-” Nichole felt empathy towards him, he was really nervous. 

“You’ll have to do it sometime. This is a safe place, nothing bad will happen to you.” 

Everyone was holding their breath for an answer. Someone was about to win a bet if he did indeed sing. The Turian pondered deeply, Priestess Gaia coming next ot the Piano with Ne'line who took a seat. 

"We're here we're here!" Another voice shouted from the lobby doors slammed open with brute force. A ruffled Greg and Rico rushed through, dashing down the aisle towards the stage. Nichole saw red sleepiness still imprinted all over the right side of his body. Britton had called them in today as backup, and also bait to get Dysus to take a leap forward. 

The two humans were more than ready to step in and help, and with that Dysus nods in agreement and dozens of humans are giving not so quiet 'yes' noises, rushing to take seats. Nichole took a step back from the Piano. Dysus was a brave soul, but she could hear his mandibles clattering against his face from where she stood. His thousand yeard stare was something that crossed over multiple species. 

So she had an idea, “Why don’t we all warm up together?” 

“Excellent idea Nichole! Everyone in a circle!” 

Rico, Greg,, Nichole, and Dysus all gather in a wide circle. She thought it was the nerves, but even so he was making an active effort to not look at her. Was something on her face? Was her fly down? He practically skittered away to the other side of the circle. Next to her Greg was bouncing with excitement, one that Nichole could understand, at least she thinks she could. Greg was giving her odd knowing smiles she took with a weary forced smile. He must be really excited about this. 

She looked to Rico for some sort of insight, but he wasn't looking at her. Rico whispered something low to the Turian. Dysus' eyes flickered at her own for barely a second. 

After warmups Nichole took her leave of the scene and like the techies she took a seat at the closest couch with the best view of all three of them. Hoping it was just nerves effecting Dysus she thought instead of her growing excitement of what was actually taking place right now. Dysus christening the new theatre with his secret voice? Maybe it was a form of good luck. He was able to survive a night out with them last night-

He looked at her right at that internal thought and something inside clicked into place. Blurry images flashed through her mind. Drinking shots, flashing lights, dancing next to a brown Turian with striking red marks and eyes like two suns. Sitting with her in a booth talking about- something. 

She wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but she could feel the creep of red heat rising on her neck. Fuck she said something stupid last night did she? Is that why he always averted her gaze, to look at anything but her? 

Was she making him nervous because of whatever she did? 

How could she be so stupid?

The Priestess non verbally called to Dysus with a low rumble, Dysus looked to her attentively, alone able to understand something communicated between the two. Then the Turian nodded, falling into attention like a soldier would. Ne’line looked to the three of them with a nod, then she began to play. 

The beat was fun, lively, and urged you to get on your feet. Britton picked the perfect starting song for Dysus to perform. Rico and greg led the first half of it. 

Rico was a great scene partner, him and Greg. Supportive, helpful, giving Dysus more eye contact as if to assure him ‘you can do it’. When he began, Dysus’s voice was soft, but not out of key. It was hard to hear him though. But he was still standing. The first dozen bars went alright; Rico looked to ‘Christian’ just like he did with Kyle sing-asking what ‘he’ believed in.

Greg waved his hand to encourage him as they all joined together. 

_Freedom Beauty Truth and Love_

_Freedom Beauty Truth and Love_

The audience members who knew the song snapped their fingers along to add to the one instrument. If the extra noise and presence assured him, it seemed to work. Lorenzo waved for him to keep going, then he started moving around the stage in a blocky but particular order. 

Wait- he was moving in the approximate blocking that was assigned having him never do it before. If he had the rest memorized Nichole could literally jump in pace and they’d be almost show ready if they worked at the flow. 

_But you won't fool the children of the Revolution_

_No you won't fool the children of the Revolution_

Like the anticipation of watching a basketball fly through the air towards the hoop, Nichole would never admit she was on the edge of her seat long before Dysus opened his mouth for his solo part. 

_Tonight_

Nichole’s mouth dropped to the floor simply from the first two syllables. 

_We are young_

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

She was obviously NOT prepared for what transpired. Awestruck didn’t even cover it. Nichole the upcoming Actress wasn’t sure what to expect when a Turian opened his mouth to sing, and the way he held that note! Goosebumps rippled over her arms and a tingle flooded in her lower gut shooting out to her fingertips.

It was without a doubt the most beautiful, dreamy voice that has ever reached her ears.

Everyone else in the room must have heard the same thing she did because they were struck to silence. The smart mouthed board operator next to her, Joker, even sat with his mouth agape. 

_We are young_

Even when Rico and Greg jumped in in perfect harmony having no group practice before, she could not get over Dysus. This seven foot tall apex predator made of sharp edges and shelling opened up to create a sound of complete silky bliss you would actually hear on broadway.

_So let's set the world on fire_

_We can burn brighter than the sun_

There was something about the undertones, another layer beyond the second pair of rumbles, clicks, and hums she would hear from him in conversation. It usually seemed instinctive, an expression of their emotions, but here it was enforcing his voice. She could partially describe water and fire coming together and creating steam.

_We are young_

She realized he basically had his own harmony and was a biological entity being a one man choir. Minor envy prickled like goosebumps of her skin. It evaporated just as instantly, replaced with an abundance of what- pride? Her legs were weak, watching him smile- _smile-_ singing with two humans like they were his childhood friends.

_Freedom_

_Beauty Truth and LOVE_

She couldn’t start clapping fast enough when the song ended, not caring how loud her cheering was. Sitting only held her back; so she lept out of her seat jumping up and down screaming. Why wasn’t the female Turian voice trainer clapping? Was she not impressed? Did she not see how fucking good he was? Britton did. Ne’line did. 

Dysus stood there on the stage, not quite sure what to do. Greg and Rico came to either side of him, Rico saying something and Greg elbowing him. Dysus followed their lead and hesitantly bowed in as much sync as he could follow. Once. Twice. Their limited audience kept cheering. 

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for him to be singing to her. 

With her, she meant with her. On stage, when- if- he was able to play the role instead of Kyle. Maybe she could ask Britton? Usually they would schedule a set amount of days for the understudies. This talent simply could not be hidden. 

Speaking of which, the Director stood slowly from the chair sitting off to the side of the stage clapping, "Excellent job! Excellent! Keep that up and we have something!" He looked down at his watch, "I ordered food for everyone that should be here soon, so we can take a bit of a needed break!" A series of whooping and hollering rose form the tech crew, standing from their seats to return to last minute work before the arrival of apparent food. Nichole found herself standing awkwardly before the stage, looking tot he Turian with mixed feelings. She wanted to congratulate him more than anything, but she also felt like the animosity between them needed to be settled. 

Then Greg waved her on stage with that big goofy grin of his, and she complied. 

Whatever it was she did, she could try and fix it. If it wasn't so horrible. Did she call him a dinosaur? Was she a crying drunk? Did she throw up on him? The pieces were still coming together, far slower than anticipated, probably due to the very long and emotionally exhausting day she's had so far. 

Dysus saw her coming and he visibly froze. 

Maybe he needed space too? Nichole why didn't you think of that? She mentally kicked herself, but any chance of making a decision was cut off by the sound of Joker calling from the doors to the lobby. “Hey Dysus! Think you can give me a hand with the dimmers?” Can you sing them magically to their proper places?” 

Dysus was locked with Nichole, but replied without hearing the humor in the human’s voice, “I’ll be right there.” 

“I’ll help.” Nichole offered, trying to leave no room for argument. She and him needed to have a talk. 

Dysus’ mandibles twitched just the slightest, but nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, in this fanfiction Dysus’ singing voice is Aaron Tyvets. Just imagine another layer of vocals underneath that's his second larynx. Listen, cry, repeat. 
> 
> Technical terms yay!
> 
> The House (in a theatre): Audience seating. 
> 
> Light/Sound Board: Big expensive board where you control the programed transitions and intensity of lights and sound output. access to EVRRY single light, sound cue, and added special effect. 
> 
> Dimmers:  
> Online definition: "Mechanical or electromechanical devices used to vary the amount of electrical power being sent to each lighting instrument. "In most modern theaters, changing the dimmers' output is the primary means of controlling the intensity of the lighting on stage."  
> Its a lot of mathy stuff to see how many lights you can control from one source.
> 
> Space Age: Not a theatre term, but a type of architecture design that was very popular between the late 40's into the 60's. Think the Jetsons or Men in Black.


	8. One Day I'll Fly Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OPTIONAL READ (regarding current events):   
>    
> With everything happening in the world the media seems saturated in hate and chaos. Take heart, have hope, and know there are people out there taking a stand for something important.  
> I will never fully understand, but I will support the fight against such blatant prejudice. It's time for people like Kyle to look hard in a mirror and be educated for their misguided principles and more importantly be willing to change to help pave the way for true equality.  
> I get it. This is a fanfiction of a fictional world with (sadly) fictional aliens. We have made up fictional characters like Dysus and Nichole and Kyle, but they’re here reflecting real things that HAVE and DO still happen if not on a lighter scale.  
> I’m not trying to make this- or especially this fic- super political.  
> If you disagree or have the need to comment, rather than put it in the public comments, message me personally. This will not affect the rest of this story, it will just hit a little harder because of real life current events. I felt compelled to put this out there and hopefully there won’t be any more deep notes like this.  
> You are all capable of being Children of the Revolution; you are all strong and capable of change. 
> 
> Truth Beauty Freedom Love.  
> That’s what we fight for. 
> 
> -NN

They didn’t have ‘the talk’, not immediately, but Dysus felt it coming. For such a tiny thing she could really control the tone of the room. Dysus felt scrutinized; her face was calm, but he knew she was waiting to strike. 

  
He didn’t think she was going to be here today, and he definitely wasn’t planning on his vocal performance to be so public already. Ne’line countered it's been weeks overdue leaving him reflecting on exactly how long he’s been here. They were already halfway through the process. Felt like both years and hours at the same time.   
Dysus had shown up to the Eternity Theatre expecting quiet hard work, then Nichole showed up and everything spiralled. 

Greg was no help. Smile wider than a hungry Krogan he bounced up to him vibrating with energy. “Honestly Dysus: I ship it.” A comment Dysus didn’t know what the fuck really meant, although his smirk was too telling. And the second Rico bounded up with the same damn look Dysus knew he was fucked and a certain secret had inevitably slipped through the cracks. 

“I could feel the vibes,” Rico whispered next to Dysus who was already having a stroke preparing to sing in front of two dozen plus people. It was hard to concentrate when your coworkers would rather discuss your future love life. “And lemme tell you I can feel them on her too.”   
That’s when he made the mistake of looking at her again. Last night he almost got closer than he was welcomed. Last night he almost got in a fight with her mate. Last night he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. 

And she knew. 

He couldn’t say no to her when she offered to help Joker move a few more pieces of equipment. Dysus was riding the high from performing, the only reason he didn’t try to think of an excuse to get away. She was making him so nervous, he aged ten years by today alone. Every time he thought to make the first move his tongue got all tied up in his mouth; he chastised the stupid muscle for being so free not long ago. 

Which brought him here twenty minutes later. And the Turian didn’t realize he was cornered until Joker disappeared to eat some of the food that was delivered.   
She turned to him. “Dysus I need to say I think you’re-”

Fucked. Fired. A shame of a Turian. 

“-So fucking talented.” The lights that were working in the ex- strip club were dim at best, some unmaintenanced for so long they flickered on and off trying to stay alive. His runaway thoughts stopped in their tracks from the most unexpected thing coming out of her mouth. 

Nichole was wearing an outfit nicer than what she normally wore to rehearsal, but not as fancy as her outfit from the vid viewing. Not that she never looked nice, she always seemed put together, stylish in however Humans dictated style. She had well fitted pants and a shirt that hugged her waist but covered her chest exposing her neck and collarbones. It must have been to look good for the marketing she had with Britton today; he’d have to ask her how it went if he made it through this conversation alive. 

Her hair was balled up on her head in a common fashion, but he counted the stray strands breaking the mold. She smiled at him, something he knew wasn’t faked or forced. “Dysus you were really really good.”

Was it really only less than an hour ago he confronted public singing? Was this some sort of psychological warfare? It was at that moment his tongue decided to unknot itself. “Thank you Nichole, that means a lot coming from you.” He didn't feel deserving of any praise, he jus did his job, and had worked hard for it over long hours and constant repetition. In Theatre people were either very quick to praise you or try to find something wrong. He wasn't special, just doing the bare minimal, something that didn't stop the small flutter in him from her comment and hers alone. 

Unsure what to do with his hands or where to stand or if he should sit he decided to stand patiently keeping his hands to his sides. Parade rest might not be the most appropriate thing. She wasn’t dressing him down- yet. 

She slipped her hands in her small pockets that didn’t completely hide her soft skin, kicking at an imaginary obstacle. “So why do I feel like I did something wrong?” Her voice struck him like the perfect shot a click away. A mix of accusation and disappointment. 

Trapped. An unexpected trap at that, and he knew exactly what she was referring to, and he was baffled by how much she had misinterpreted. “I- No!” Dysus reeled back, “Nono you...you’ve done nothing wrong.” They were talking about last night right? Why would she say such a thing?

She bit her lip again before shrugging, “Then what? My memory of last night is shoddy, so please if I did something wrong I need to know. I’m not good at reading Turians but I know you and you will barely look at me- something that didn’t start until today.”

Dysus shifted from one leg to the other. “I may have bought the cast and crew too many shots.” He recalled the brand new dent in his account this morning. It didn’t bother him he did it, he rarely splurged on spending- this was one occasion that only fueled an amazing night. “You were hit hard and I felt responsible.” 

“What did I do?” She asked suddenly with a lace of suspicion. “Did I throw up on you? Did I touch you? Insult you?” her voice dipped to a near purr Dysus the Turian subconsciously noted. “Did I do the British accent?” 

“Accent? No you got lightheaded. You needed food.” 

“You bought me food! I remember!” her hands pressed against her face and she groaned, “I’m so sorry that’s so embarrassing. Kyle has me doing this insane diet-” Whatever point she had begun to make evaporated and cast a shadow over her eyes. A switch went off and any amusement or embarrassment Dysus found oddly cute was gone. “How much do I owe you?” 

One of the reasons Dysus bought drinks last night for everyone was because he knew the cast members were what they called ‘starving artists’ and didn’t exactly roll in credits. And again, Dysus didn’t mind. 

“Nothing.” He certainly never expected payment back. “Your drunken state was payment enough.” 

She held an averted gaze, biting back a smile. “There he is with the jokes.” It was almost a relief, but maybe she still felt bad. He hoped she wouldn’t try to pay him back, he really honestly didn’t care. Money was just an object. He couldn’t figure out why the woman was suddenly reeling back looking paler than before the conversation. His mandible twitched with concern. 

‘Nichole are you alright?” How close would be too close? If he dared to ask would a particular human male jump around the corner and finish what he started last night? What right did Dysus even have to investigate? 

She blinked rapidly and shook her head, “Yeah it’s just been a long day you know?” Nichole sighed deeply, “I just want to make sure we’re good. I don’t want to lose a friend like you because I did something stupid to scare you away.” 

There was something she wasn’t telling him, but who was he to push about it? If anything h wanted her to smile, not think about...whatever it was that changed her mood. 

Humor usually worked with humans, at least these ones. “Well you’re not very intimidating with your..height and..” 

She closed the distance between them; playfully smacking his shoulder. “Smartass.” It was enough to break the wall being built around her, at least for now. Maybe he could ask Greg if he knew something. 

Just then his Omni-Tool pinged; it was a message from his boss. Four simple words. 

Q: _Come to the office._

And no explanation. 

“What is it?” 

He lowered his arm to close the viewer, “It’s from work, I need to go in for something.” Dysus looked around at the other panels and extensions cables still needing to be plugged in and connected around the building. He was really looking forward to playing with the light board Joker swoons over. 

Nichole gave a gentle nudge, “Go, I'll tell Britton when he asks where you are: because you insist on reporting for literally everything.”

Dysus saw nothing wrong with that. “He is the boss.” 

Ah the way she tilted her head at him with such sympathy “And you’re here on your free time for work you’re not paid for. You leave when you need to.”

It was hard not to see her point, but the light board….

She caught his longing gaze and scoffed, “Some things don't change across species.” 

~♫~

Nichole was more relieved than she thought with how the conversation went. She didn’t know exactly why it was so important to clear the air, but she was glad she did regardless of the information she learned from it. But if embarrassing herself didn’t push away one of the few Citadel friends she’s made, anyway it was worth it. She would have to do something nice for her Turian savior in the future. 

He had taken care of her. 

She remembered more than she let on as the conversation went on. Bits and pieces, but one thing was absolutely clear: when she could barely stand and was fucking starving Dysus stepped in and made sure she was ok. Dysus kept an eye on her and Dysus bought her food. The conversation was still fuzzy, the rumbling of his subvocals of a language unknown to her gently vibrating against the thin paper bowl of some sort of alien snack. She remembered feeling them through her fingertips. She remembered him speaking to her in smokey low tones, hypnotizing her, wrapping her in a bubble of security. 

Nichole took a breath and looked around awkwardly; Joker was probably going to be on break for a while, so she took initiative and started making her way to the back stairs. Someone somewhere could use a hand. Her thoughts still going back to last night. 

She had danced with him. That was the most clear part of the night. She hadn't let loose like that in years; she’d have to leave a review for Purgatory applauding their bartenders for the potions that ruled their night. Stumbling home knowing getting up would be a nightmare was worth it. One hundred percent. She wished she could remember what they had talked about. Something about Kyle?

The name itself put a block in her brain, and she almost failed to see a flash of blue that stopped her from colliding. Ne’line was able to stop just inches from her even when she had been flying down the hallway. The look of concern on her face was jarring. 

“Everything ok?” Nichole asked, happy for the interruption of thoughts of her failing relationship.

The Asari was the closest thing to a mother hen the theatre company had; she was wise, calm, collected, and a great help for Britton and the show. Nichole loved her. So when she opened her mouth and asked Nichole of something, she would do it. “Nichole, could you go grab a water bottle and some food downstairs for Britton?” 

Nichole frowned, “Is he okay?”

Ne’line gently pressed on her shoulder to guide her towards the door, “He’s...pushing himself today and Amy and I are forcing him to go on a break. Could you do that?” 

Her legs already picked up speed with each word, “Of course i’ll go as fast as I can.” And she was gone. She wasn’t wearing the most sensible shoes today, but that wasn’t going to stop her from practically plowing her way to the small buffet table in the theatre lobby surrounded by the Tech crew. 

Nichole cursed to herself as she piled food on a plate. Britton should have just went home after the interview. She’d have to have another talk with him, but she knew it would be useless. The man did whatever he set his mind to. Setting foot on the Citadel was Example A. 

When she made her way back upstairs to the back office, the door was ajar, and Nichole could hear Ne’line indeed by his side along with Amy. The Stage Manager was speaking in a direct but soft edged tone. 

“I am capable of handling this Britton; just eat and go home.” Amy was more like the cool Aunt of the theatre; she cared deeply for the safety of the company and that would always be her first priority: secondly making sure shit was on schedule. This could not be done without her and her organization. So her yelling at the director was not surprising at all. 

“It’s just been a long day, I'm fine.” 

“Your pride exceeds your imagination,” Ne’line commented now, in more frustration than amusement. Nichole took that as her cue and pushed the door open with the toe of her shoe before entering. 

The office had a questionable smell she wanted no exclamation to, and she was certain Britton would have a deep clean of this very questionable office space, but for the most part she was glad to see several garbage bags lined up by the door as she entered. Britton lit up when he saw her, reluctantly accepting the goods with a side glance to Ne’line. “I just ate Ne’line…” 

“Ration bars are not food Lorenzo this isn’t the war.” Ne’line did a very motherly thing by putting her hands on her hips, something Nichole did not expect of a near matriarch Asari. It was cute though, very domestic, she just wanted to make sure he was ok….

No don’t think about it. 

Nichole drove her attention from a (almost) scolding Ne’line, to a worried but controlled Amy, down to Britton placing the plate and bottle on the desk he sat at. It was a very large office with monitors stacked high and wide, some of them were on with cameras in familiar corners of the Theatre. Nichole noticed one camera in what seemed like a dressing room. She shivered. They really needed to gut this place. Britton twisted open the cap on the bottle and drank some of the water, purposely avoiding the gazes of the three women next to him. Nichole watched the muscles around his jaw tighten and shift, his demeter agitated and distracted. He wasn’t giving looks to Ne’line, not for her light comment. Something else was bothering him. 

“Britton are you sure you’re ok?” Nichole’s question received pointed shocked looks from the other women. Nichole gave them a shrug, Britton wasn’t going to leave the theatre so they might as well just keep him comfortable. 

“It’s nothing Nichole.” Britton put in the effort to give her a forced smile, she was one of his weak spots. And because of their friendship she knew he could sniff out her own fatigue. “You look tired too.” 

She thought of a quick quib to keep the humor; he didn’t need to know about her drama right now. “I’m fine Britton. You need to relax. Just stay up here and cleanse the place.” Nichole gestured around the sketchy room, “I can stay. I’m young.” 

That got a chuckle out of everyone, Amy making her way towards the door, “Alright I’m going to check up on everyone. And you better not move from that fucking chair until I come back!” She said, pointing a finger at him with her body halfway out the doorway. Britton mocked getting up and she pointed her stare. Then in the blink of an eye she was gone. Ne’line murmured under her breath. “I assume you can take care of yourself and not get in any trouble?” She asked Britton. “I need to quickly make sure the music rooms are put together for vocal lessons, otherwise they’ll have to practice back at the Pit, and i’m sure the dancing lessons would like to have the place to themselves for a while.” 

Britton waved her away, stabbing a plastic fork into the pasta Nichole brought him. “I said i’m fine Ne’line i’ll be here,” he dismissed, accepting the orders from the women. Ne’line gave him a soft small smile and a look in her eye that seemed endearing? Nichole knew Ne’line was a contact of Britton, but now she was wondering how close they actually were. And how long they’ve known each other. 

Blue fingers brushed against her arm in comfort before the Asari departed, leaving the two humans in the room. 

Britton still seemed ticked off about something, but the less talking he did to satisfy her curiosity, the more he could eat. 

Speaking of which. 

Her stomach at that moment growled enough to scare an alley cat. Britton stopped to locate the course of the sound before starting to laugh. 

“Well don’t babysit me Nichole, you’ve been working all day like I have, go get yourself some food and take a break.” 

Food sounded good right now, and for once she was going to take it. “Alright i’m going.” Nichole twisted for the door and stopped herself, “Oh, by the way Dysus had to go. He got called into work.” 

Britton was lifting the utensil to his mouth with a big bite, but stopped halfway at her comment. "Did Dysus say anything by the way?" 

Nichole's eyebrows furrowed, and her heart skipped a beat, "Say anything?" 

"About...nevermind." And that was that, Britton shoveled the food in his mouth and looked to the monitors, already calculating how to gut the camera lines and to possibly reuse them for exterior security or a live feed to update actors backstage. 

She thought to ask, but decided against it. It felt like a discussion not for her ears. She shrugged and left the office to get some food. 

~♫~

The rickety skycar nearly flatlined on one of the major transport lanes on his way to the office building, which would have caused him to run into a patrolling CSec vehicle. It didn’t happen thank the Spirits but Dysus was slowly regretting taking the company garbage can as transportation to and from work. If the Pit had come with a skycar, this would be it. 

Dysus straightened himself out the best his could, even changing into his office attire as assurance before walking in Lorik’s office. The elder had a very nice space, one a Turian of corporate work dreams of having: top floor, high windows, top encryption doors, and lights that worked. It should always be intimidating to Dysus, but maybe because of his relationship with its owner he never felt that way. And the carpet was always a fun plus. Lorik was finishing up an email when he entered, good, Lorik was alone. 

“Take a seat Dysus.” he began. Dysus nodded and settled across from the desk. A minute went by before the talons on the holo keys stopped and he sent the message, folding his hands together on the desk to finally look at him. His subvocals gave nothing away and his expressions was neutral. Dysus held his neutral stare back. 

“You purchased VI’s from Synthetic insights.” 

Oh so that’s what this was about: Dysus’s little side project. “Yes.” Dysus gave a light nod in confirmation, still unsure what exactly Lorik was implying as a response. They all knew the reputation of the company, but Dysus was certain of his choice. “Despite their reputation their research yields the best results for Virtual Intelligence. Must I emphasize it is Virtual Qui’in?” Using his last name was for respect, hopefully it would help his case. Heck Dysus would send in a report defending the purchase if he had to because those mechs needed a damn good fix or the next broken part would cost his head. 

Internally he again asked the universe why he couldn’t get five minutes to himself without something happening or jeopardizing his work. 

Qui’in stared at him long and hard, not a single movement of his mandibled until the half second before he spoke, “I know you wouldn’t do anything that stupid Dysus, like mess with Illegal AI’s, and I wasn’t asking you here to yell at you.” 

“So what then?” Dysus inquired. The purchase was with the extra funds in the department, for a small fix of the factory work. This wouldn’t get the attention of the higher ups for no reason. 

A loud beeping noise cut the spell in the room, he had forgotten to silence his Tool. Dysus made the mistake of looking. 

G:  _ ITS OVER _

Another ping. 

G:  _ SHE DUMPED HIM _

“Something important Dysus?” A slightly amused, but putting on a professional mask Qui’in asked. Dysus’s talon lifted to silence the Tool when another series of Pings came through in rapid succession. 

G:  _ THAT MEANS SHE BROKE UP WITH HIM _

G:  _ SATINE NEEDS HER CHRISTIAN  _

He silenced the Tool and shut off the screen, the last two sentences burned in his brain like when you stare at a bright light by accident. “No Sir, just from a coworker.”

What did it mean? 

What was he thinking? He knew what it meant, but why? How? When? What? Dysus tried multitasking, but failed upon realizing his subvocals were humming and unlike at rehearsals there was an adult Turian sitting across from him who could decipher what it meant. 

He wasn’t sure how much he gave away before silencing himself, but it was enough to peak his interest. “Not one from here i assume.” Qui’in leaned back in his chair, shifting the conversation to something else entirely. “Don’t be surprised Dysus. Rajil called me to his office early this morning for an ‘emergency meeting’.”

Dysus rubbed the top of his fringe, “It wasn’t an emergency meeting wasn’t-”

“It wasn’t an emergency no.” Qui’in finished. “Although he tried to call it a ‘Turian’ emergency.” 

Damnit Rajil. He’s just as bad as Greg. Dysus swallowed, “So you know.” How long would it be before everyone knew now? Would this day ever end? 

Qui’in nodded. “I won’t lie, I was partially relieved. When you first told me you were taking up dancing again I feared the worst, that you were dancing at some shithole like Chora's Den, I was pleasantly wrong.” 

A dancer as Choras, now wouldn’t that cause a stir? If Dysus was younger and more rebellious, who knows, maybe that's where he would have ended up. Wouldn’t he just be the pride and joy of the Gracchus name? 

But is he even that now? 

The answer bluntly: was no. Carrying a tune hardly equaled accomplishments of the Hierarchy. Dysus knew this, and so did Lorik. Although Qui’in finding out was just a matter of time with Rajil knowing. Rajil could keep a secret, except when it came to his uncle. Dysus plucked at the arm of the chair and decided on a tactical retreat. 

“Do you have any other comments Sir?” 

Qui’in shifted his arm to the side of his desk to look at a datapad with fake interest. “No, your purchase was a bold one, but if it fails it's on you. Working with a company like that is risky, even for a secure company like ours. Otherwise you’re free to go, I’m sure I interrupted your other activities.” 

Bold. That was a new term. Which also could mean ‘highly stupid’ in Turian terms. If it was stupid Lorik would tell him, but he’s also correct, Dysus took a huge gamble with the purchase, something he never would have done a few months ago, but he was so damn frustrated and when there was something he could do about it…

Why the hell not? 

“It’s fine sir, i’m not on schedule the rest of the day.” he got up to make his exit, a tiny part of him hoping he just hadn't made the biggest career move of his life. Before he could leave, Qui’in had one last piece of advice. What it was directed towards, he didn't say. 

“Keep your head on straight Dysus, and be careful.”


	9. Nature Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead just distracted  
> Not sure how I feel about this chapter.

For once there was a shipment at work that didn’t stress Dysus out for it being the one that could potentially save the damned factory. A lot of his coworkers, and a lot of the factory staff, were equally as skeptical about using products from Synthetic Insights; his talk with Qui’in had only been the beginning, but Dysus remained optimistic, or he just ran out of shits to give. The quietness of his personal office was something he missed when hearing the loud clashes of metal being dropped or the scrapping of it being run over. It was loud, annoying, and yelled paperwork and a possible lecture in the future from whomever was suddenly so important and high tier you could only kiss their ass so they wouldn’t sue you. 

His contact informed him of the shipment tracking and how due to the different laws between them and Citadel space a third party had to drop off the shipments; which had Dysus up at an early hour in the morning cycle overseeing the delivery and installment. Luckily with the priority order manufactured out of the way weeks ago, he didn’t want to stress too much about the basics and decided to take his lunch hour and go to the Eternity Theatre. He had been more than curious and interested in helping Joker with the technical setup. He got even more excited as he helped tinker with the new VI cores for the mechs, it’s been awhile since he had a technical project. 

The last few days had been evolving in an odd way he couldn’t ignore. With the gossip of the shattered relationship status of Nichole and Kyle spreading like wildfire and the excitement of being in a real theatre rehearsals felt more chaotic than normal. Reality was setting in. Britton ran circles around the new base waving wildly and chattering about his dozens and dozens of ideas; some of them sounding good for what little Dysus knew. Getting to dance again was just a small piece of what he actually got of this job; he was a part of a giant project, and he didn’t mind at all. How vastly different his life is now than before; he thought he was comfortable in the quiet of his apartment until he was infected by his new friends’ laughter. Now the stillness bothers him to a point where he plays the musical tracks on low in the background to help him sleep. The energy, like that of these humans, was infectious. 

Before running straight into a sea of personal feelings Dysus gave his head a little shake and entered the back entrance of the theatre. They still had rehearsals at the Pit, but at least now it was more separate and spaced out. The theatre had better music rooms for vocals, so dancers and blocking remained at the dingy apartment for now. Not much longer of things were underway. 

Stepping over a cluster of paint cans in the Shop where a group was concentrating on a task, cutting up large thin planks with a Table Saw. One of them, a Batarian who showed up yesterday, gave a small nod to him as he passed through. The Batarian was an older man with scars riddling him up and down and a missing eye. Britton happily introduced him to everyone and the guy didn’t say anything, just gave a gruff nod. Dysus would pay money to have heard the elevator pitch from Britton that got him aboard to help build for a human musical. 

The whirling blade of the machine tearing into the wood with a high pitched whine rang loud to his sensitive ear canals and he wished he had bought Kava on the way over. One noise was replaced with another as he entered from the stage; a rhythmic beat of music blasting from the speakers. A song he didn't know, but was obviously Human. 

Techies were scattered everywhere in all corners of the house; on the stage a huge steel grid had been lowered from the ceiling and a ladder sat under it. The new Quarian, Tali, was climbing up with a heavy light in her hand and attaching it with barks from below.

"That's a Source Four right?" Joker asked, his hands flat atop a large paper blueprint at the edge of the stage. 

Tali gave an annoyed gruff only Dysus could hear on approach before responding, "Yes it's a Source Four." 

"Alright alright just checking, I don't want to have to do this again later." His finger brushed over to trace a line on the paper, plucking a pencil from behind one of his ears to scribble a note down. The music playing around them hammered on. 

“What is that?” Dysus asked the human from his spot on stage, eyeing Tali out of habit to make sure she was okay with her task. 

Joker's head popped up to give that wide smirk. “ _Queen_ baby!” a harsh melody rolled in and Joker, pencil in hand, began bobbing wildly to it whilst shaking the utensil in spastic movements. "I'm having a noise-off with the shop. The new Batarian guy? Thinks he can stop me and my tunes man."

What it was with humans wanting a death wish was beyond the Turian, he just showed up and did his job. "Are you use its a good idea to antagonize him?" 

"Its just a little friendly competition Dysus, gosh, isn't that why you're here? To build up your personal profile for brownie points?" The human plucked his cap off his head to rub his forearm over his hair before putting it back on. Whatever mischievious glint in his eyes had to say, Dysus wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

"What are brownie points?" He asked instead; his arm reached out to grab the ladder that had wobbled slightly as Tali began her descent. 

Joker gave a huff while returning to the scribbles on the paper, his tone light, "Ya know, to make you look good-" His tone dipped an octave, "To look good for a special someone..." 

“Just here to help." Dysus replied plainly. "Like how i'm here now to help you get the other lights up.” _I swear if Greg said anything..._

Luckily Joker dropped the subject immediately, instead deciding to insult him with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrow, “Is this where you tell me you also got a masters in Technical Theatre while in the military?” If you had told Dysus months ago you needed to go to school for putting up some lights he would have never believed them, but he was still a novice at this thing. Or Joker was- aptly- joking. 

Dysus rolled his eyes, a motion hidden behind Tali as she dropped from the last two steps. “I was a tech specialist of my cruiser,” he defended. Hacking and coding was a fledgling hobby-turned-skill in his service; It was actually one of the few things in his military career he was proud of. Even though it meant he locked himself below deck tinkering for hours on end, isolating him from most social activities and ostracizing him from the rest of his squad. Something that only got worse after the shore leave ban, but made his transfer ten times easier. 

Joker stared at Dysus long enough for him to wonder if this was a challenge of some sort. But the man straightened his back and drummed his fingers on the stage, “Look you can help but I got it all mapped out already so today-” He pointed two of his fingers at Dysus before turning on himself with the same intensity, “I’m the captain now.” 

The song playing ended, and whatever came on next seemed to insult Joker more than anything, because he huffed and quickly limped away towards the device he had plugged in to a terminal in the audience. Tali leaned in towards Dysus and whispered, “he said the same thing to me when I got here.” 

“Any idea what it means?” 

“Not a clue.” 

~♫~

For the better part of the hour everything was self explanatory, Dysus had better reach and took over ladder duty for the Quarian, who would hand him lights to clamp to the steel bars and plug them in. There were so many instruments to this, Dysus wondered how Joker was planning on controlling all of it. He was going to ask, but the human in question had taken his hat on and off, a sign of frustration while glaring at the plot. Without the major remodeling done they had to squeeze in as many lights as they could before spacing them out later. Tali was stepping up the ladder in anticipation of having to take down a light for the fifth time when Dysus craned his neck to look around at the Dimmer box they plugged into. There were several open spaces for lights. He tugged on the light to ensure it was firmly secure and pulled up the end of the cable while calling down from over his shoulder, 

Holding the pronged end of the cable and reached for the nearest slot. “Hey Joker one can fit here-”

A rustle of paper, “Dysus no!”

The prongs slid in the slot, and instantaneously the lights went out. All of them. Not just the lights they were working on. The ex-strip club went completely dark. The whirling of the table saw slowed and died in the distance. The silence of confusion was followed by the dramatic wail of a frail man, “Nooooooo. You destroyed my universe!” 

Dysus would admit he may have messed up, and he has done a lot of technical jobs over the years, this was the first time this has happened. Joker could be using humor, but the seriousness of his words was telling him he may have in fact destroyed his universe- whatever that exactly meant. A small concerned whine vibrated from his subvocals. “I can fix that.” Despite the desire to fix it, his voice wasn't very confident he could. 

Portable lights turned on from flashlights or the glow of an Omni-Tool. Two or three tech members hollered into the house to confirm everyone was ok before going off to try and find the fuze box. Dysus sheepishly made his way down the ladder with the light from Tali’s Tool illuminating the steps. Joker may have sounded humorous, but it was thinly veiled on top of deep frustration. “You can’t just plug things in willy-nilly here, there's a whole different type of math for this!” 

“I can-”

The silhouette of the human shifted somewhere in the isle, “Nope. Nope I think _you_ go do actor-y things and I'll do the techie things okay?” The tone was final, and he turned to walk away, the only indication it wasn't going well was a loud crash followed by a loud string of swears only half Dysus recognized. 

The reality was that Joker technically outranked him and Dysus did not know how to feel about that, but there have been stranger things. Tali was briefly silent beside him; probably aware of the same thought. 

“There’s a Kava maker in the green room,” The small Quarian suddenly suggested, “It’s brand new, unfortunately I don’t drink the stuff.” 

Kava. Dysus could go for that. He gave her an appreciative nod, “Thanks, let me know if he gives you any trouble.” He added whilst turning away from her. She gave a small chuckle, and the quiet shy woman was briefly gone, replaced with what he swears was a sultry confidence.

“I think I can handle him, i’ve survived well on my own so far.” And Dysus, walking in the dark with the glow of his own Tool, he had a feeling she was absolutely correct in one way or another. Tali was a nice addition to the company, but also defiant of any stereotypes he grew up hearing about: she was polite, quiet, but also not afraid to stand up for herself. Qualities of women his friends tried to set him up with in the past. His siblings on the other hand were more conventional: strong females with good breeding and status. His clan ‘demanded’ that as bare minimal, and his family name held to it for a milenia. Not that they would ever welcome a Quarian for one, maybe an Asari. 

And definitely not a human. 

At that moment as his thoughts went down a path he never consented to going the lights flashed back on, a low enthusiastic cheer reverberated from every direction of the Theatre. 

Dysus would admit there was an extranet search or two before caving and asking Rico to find out why the room Tali was referring to was in fact- not green. It was a medium sized room backstage the cast could relax in and wait in between scenes before going on. For the original building design- well it was an old VIP viewing room. He was told it was sanitized before anything else, but Dysus could still smell the...activities done. The Humans didn’t seem to either notice or care, they installed a cooling unit, loaded it with snacks and beverages and called it a day, not even remotely perplexed by the gaudy magenta floor and walls. It was called the green room, being a pink room, nicknamed the Red Room in accordance to a reference to the Musical. 

Yeah. 

Dysus was greeted, happily in the room, with a Kava machine on the ex-bar counter against the wall. Tali wasn’t kidding, the machine was brand new; top of the line even. His talons worked efficiently to prepping his drink the way he liked it, making a mental note to thank Hopkins later. The woman drank as much of the pick me up drink as he did, and they joked as such. 

A small gesture with approval from the others of course, but Dysus and Tali were the only dextros in the company. The gesture was almost too much. 

Almost, but this meant more Kava and less time having to go out and get it between shifts. 

The smell itself perked him up immediately; making him realize how tired he had actually been. He was still here, and barred from working on lights at the moment, so he decided to make his way to the upper back office to see if Lorenzo had any tasks for him to do, or to ask if Lorenzo could force Joker to let him help again. 

As he exited down the hallway, however, he almost lost his drink to the person almost running into him. It had been a week since Kyle Rutherford and Dysus Gracchus were in the same room together. And Kyle had no rehearsals this morning; he never helped with tech on his own time. The current excuse was probably the cast he had over his hand, the results of a conversation they never finished. 

The man looked indifferent, but below that was anger aimed directly at him. 

“Kyle.” 

“Turian.” 

Dysus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What Nichole ever saw in him was a mystery. Maybe he could ask her; they were going to play something called Twenty Questions after the next group rehearsal, Greg suggested it as a way to get to know each other. Dysus didn’t mind the idea, but was hesitant at the direct looks from Greg, who has become insufferable for the past few days. 

Kyle’s nose twitched, zoning in on the drink on Dysus’s hand, causing him to make a face. Dysus took it as a small victory and took a sip of his Kava, maintaining eye contact- a challenging thing to do with his lack of lips. 

Kyle scowled, ramming past Dysus hard enough to shake the cup violently, spilling a portion of it over Dysus’s arm. “Just stay out of my way. And keep your dirty claws to yourself.” 

The Kava was hot, but not nearly as hot as his words. Good thing was Turians liked the warm temperatures. Unfortunately the sentiment did not help with the dark stain spreading over the sleeve of his work tunic. It rocked him enough to want to make another jab at the insufferable man, “That will be hard to do if i’m dancing with half the cast. But thanks for the suggestion.” 

Dysus made a small mistake of reengaging the enemy, as his father would tell him. Kyle halted in his tracks to twist back, “You think you're hot shit don’t you? You all think youre so much better than us.” His finger was pointing accusingly at Dysus. 

“No.” _But I'm better than you,_ he wanted to add. Dysus was too tired to really care what Kyle had to say anymore. It was obvious his racism came from a place of deep insecurities. At least that’s what Hopkins had said in passing behind Kyle’s back. Others’ had a problem with how Dysus was being treated, but with Kyle Dysus could really care less. If he had attacked Greg that night in the bathroom, or hurt Nichole, that would be a different story altogether. But they were done, a small voice reminded him; it was a small victory in a war of a hundred battles. He kept his subvocals under control to remain neutral because _he_ obviously had to be the adult. “Compromise. You obviously don’t like me, and I tolerate you. So if I stay out of your way, you’ll stay out of mine.” And since he wasn’t dating Nichole anymore, the proposal was 100% more effective. 

Kyle dared to take another step forward, Dysus tempted to take a step back to shield his drink. “You don't make the rules around here.” Kyle combed his now very long hair back Maybe you should quit now, once the interview goes live and people find out about you, you’ll wish you never-”

From the stage a loud shout stopped him from finishing his thought. “Heads!” someone shouted, followed by a loud crash sound. After barely half a second the same voice piped up, “We’re good!” Dysus relaxed after years of instincts kicking his adrenaline up. When he looked to Kyle the man was already diffused from what Dysus minorly noted to be a threat. 

Kyle had these dark brown eyes, his now long hair barely tamed on his head. He had a good human smile, Dysus would admit; he was charming and used it like a tool to get what he wanted. It was in this moment Dysus had to consider that: Kyle did not like it when he didn’t get what he wanted. But what he wanted? The Turian couldn’t even guess. A compromise was going to be a problem, but with the shuffle of techies just down the hallway he decided against another insult or jab. “Just watch yourself Turian.” And with that Kyle was gone, his back facing him before Dysus could even nod. 

Dysus shrugged, making his way in the opposite direction towards a set of stairs to the upper floor.

~♫~

When Nichole went to Britton’s office to listen to the radio interview once it broadcasted live, she had stumbled in on him asleep on the couch against the wall, passed out amongst a pile of papers. Ne’line claimed he had stayed up through the night working. So she stacked his papers, covered him in a blanket and sought something to do. A nap sounded good, but when she saw all the faces of the minimal tech crew hard at work she felt compelled to help. It wasn’t fair Britton put everything on his shoulders alone. 

Then she ran into An’la who was there for a costume fitting and they chatted for a while, mostly her complaining about Rico. It’s always ‘he’s insufferable!’ this and ‘hes so full of himself’ that. Nichole nodded her head politely, wondering when they would figure it out they are exactly the same and that’s why they clashed all the time. It was a good thing they could act through it during scenes.

At the end of that conversation Nichole remained in the costume room where the head Seamstress and Costume Designer were hard at work to offer her assistance.

Her Omni-Tool chimed a message or two from the cast group chat that she ignored for the time being. She had her shift at the Diner soon and wasn’t going to be able to party tonight. 

“So how is the single life going for you?” An’la asked while she watched her work from a cozy seat at the table. Nichole was fighting with a bit of flashy fabric. She couldn’t sew for shit but putting on buttons shouldn’t be _this_ difficult. 

Nichole huffed madly as the thread refused to go in the needle. “Just fine An’la.” _So please drop it._

She loved An’la to death but it could never be that simple. “You sure? I don’t know how it is for humans, but you look like you need to hit the town and get laid.” An’la was painting her nails, something one of the other dancers introduced her to the other day. The woman was considered young for her species- that she’s been told- but dam if she didn’t fit right in with some of them. She was also just so nosey. Nichole didn’t fault her for it, she was nosey too. There might be some validation to An’la’s prodding since Nichole’s dementia changed since the dreaded break. She didn’t cry, not really, but maybe she was waiting for it. Maybe she was waiting for her to finally be sad and cry, eat a tub of ice cream then reset and be good for the rebound. Surprisingly she’s just been...okay? Not good, but bad, but okay. It stressed her out to no end, the damn was flooding and it needed release before it distracted her from work. Of course she wasn’t going to tell An’la this; another trait she has in common with the others is the gossip. 

Nichole took a solid ten seconds of quiet to consider her answer as well as get the stupid thread through. Once that victory was achieved she opened her mouth to answer, “I don’t need a man to cope An’la. I’m taking some time to myself to focus on the show.” 

The Asari hummed in obvious disapproval and was about to answer when someone came through the door at the other side of the room. The space was a bit cramped with all the tables set up and clothing racks, kinda like a sweatshop, but there was enough of a walkway in sight of everyone to see another Asari enter. Ne’line moved like a queen in every single space that almost made Nichole jealous. The fact that she acted like a queen was a bigger plus, hell maybe one day An’la could act like her. It would be a few hundred years but one could hope.

Ne’line had probably come from checking on Britt, because she gave Nichole an assuring smile before going straight for the Designer. The interruption put a lag on whatever An’la wanted to get into, so ten points to Ne’line. Nichole went back to work, finally able to work on one of the buttons, but then she found she did it backwards and had to restart. All the while overhearing bits and pieces of the conversation nearby. 

Ne’line was the technical assistant director, but oversaw many other departments to make sure everything went right. Which was a good thing because Britton loved directing and building, but when it came to costumes and colors he was lost. Ne’line opted to step in and make sure his vision was coming to life. 

“Nichole, you would call us friends right?” An’la asked abruptly, causing Nichole to stab herself in the thumb with the needle. She hollered with a swear her mother would smack her for and held back from glaring to the Asari. 

Out of everyone in the cast, An'la was her only close friend that was a female, which didn;t mean too much but there were some conversations she didn't really care to have with Greg or Duke or Rico. An'la was a little immature at times and thinks highly of herself, but she could ground herself every now and then. They had a connection that definitely helped their characters get closer together. “Yes I’d say we’re friends, why?” Her last word bled suspicion, there was no way of telling what An’la was going to say next. 

“If you’re not dating Kyle, then why does he assume you are going to get back together?” 

“That’s a good question.” 

That reply didn’t really answer An’la, but all she did to indicate she understood was readjusting where she sat. “Humans. So if he’s single now would you be okay if I….?” 

Nichole frowned, expecting to be pissed at the notion, but more than anything found it a little brash. Instead she asked: “You ever date a human before?” An’la had to have some serious guts to be asking her about this. 

Next to her blue fingertips sparkled with a glittery pink. “No, but i’ve slept with one, no- three. He’s not bad looking, but i’m still trying to see the difference between you all. No offense.”

Nichole scratched her scalp while making a face, “Uh some offense taken. But you know looks aren't everything.” 

“Oh I know, but they help. That's why I had a huge thing for Dysus for a while.” 

She stabbed herself again, too shocked to swear. Her stomach did a small flip. This wasn’t a giant revelation, she had already known this, but to hear it was another thing entirely. “Do you still?” 

“No, it was obvious he didn’t have sights for me. That's for the better, I don't think Turians are my thing.” She emphasized 'me' for some reason. “But you should know Dysus is decent looking for a Turian. Not really handsome or hot, but with those Colony marks he obviously has good breeding. I mean have you ever looked at him?” 

At the other side of the room Ne’line was telling the Designer about something with one of the dance costumes. Something about waists. 

Nichole was mildly offended on behalf of Dysus. She didn’t know anything about what was considered good looks of Turians, but she liked the way he looked. “I can’t really say I have, not like you anyway.” She didn’t know why hearing An’la talking about Dysus this way made her angry. She was purposely stabbing herself with the needle bit by bit to keep from saying something stupid. Why type of stupid thing, she didn’t know. Her emotions were all over the place right now. 

Someone else entered the room, and Ne’line’s pleasant queen voice filled the room. “Dysus, how pleasant to see you today. Were you here to play with the technology?” 

Nichole’s heart hiccuped, _speak of the devil_ her dad would say. She looked up and like Ne’line said the Turian was indeed in the room with them. She kicked herself, of course he was here, he’s always helping around. And why was it whenever she talked about him he appeared? His eyes met hers and she smiled, giving a small wave of greeting. He returned in kind before giving a suave answer, 

“Joker asked me to step aside for the time being,” The Turian said without hiding a sort of disappointment. It sent shivers down her spine how he nearly purred the words. Him and his stupid voice. An’la was getting in her head.

The Costume Designer turned and gasped, pointing, “What happened?” 

All eyes followed the finger to a dark splotch on the Turian’s dark navy Tunic. He rocked where he stood. “I uh, spilled my Kava-” He began to explain, gesturing to it like it was nothing. 

The seamstress interrupted with the most horrifying demand. “Strip.” 

Nichole gasped, An’la sent into an immediate fit of giggles as the Turian balked, the mandibles on the sides of his face twitching erratically, “I’m...what?” 

The older woman waved at him impatiently, “Strip, strip I can get that out.” 

He held up his hands. “I don’t think that's necessary I can-” 

“Nonsense i'm a professional Dysus, there’s plenty of your costumes you can wear if you’re shy,” She challenged him. Ne’line was trying hard not to smile, hiding behind her datapad in her hands. Dysus stole quick glances to the room full of women before suddenly putting down his cup and grabbing the bottom of his shirt and much to Nichole's surprise- pulling it over his head. 

She’s seen his arms, his hands, his face, but she’s never seen him shirtless. The shelling or plating of his face that covered his arms like armor lined the cowl around his neck and provided some plating mainly over his chest, layering over his hide. It wasn’t drastically different from humans, not really. It was beautiful in a weird way, like abstract art. She certainly didn’t hate what she saw, and with that she instantly berated herself, looking away before she could blush.

She just got out of a relationship, she should not be pinning and definitely not on one of her few friends. What the fuck was wrong with her? Was she so dependent on being in a relationship? Was Kyle right? Did she need him? She didn’t _want_ to need him. 

But why did she keep staring and looking and most frighteningly wondering what it would be like to be close to him right now. The more these thoughts manifested the more she felt like a whore. _He’s your friend he’s your friend you’re just freaking out because you’re lonely and he’s nice to you. Keep it under control, he’s a Turian. He wouldn’t want you._

An'la wasn't helping, her gaze falling to her drying polish. "You know Turians do stress relief with friends all the time, no strings attached-"

"An'la have some decency." Nichole hissed much to her amusement, burying her face at the edge of the table to attempt working on the button in her lap instead. perfectly hidden and safe. She just had to do this for the next hour and she would be fine. No need to be an asshole to her friend because she couldn't control herself. 

Ne’line checked the time before beaming with excitement, “The interview will be airing soon, we can listen to it on my Omni-Tool.” Ne’line began pressing buttons rapidly. 

She had forgotten about the interview, a good opportunity for Dysus to not have to be here. She looked up to the Turian and she actually had fight to remain calm. “Dysus you don't need to listen in if you don't want. It's just a dumb interview." Maybe he could take a costume piece and Joker will take him back by now. An'la said absolutely nothing to back her up, instead staring at her out of the corner of her eye which made things worse. 

Nichole didn't want to admit An'la was onto something, maybe she did just need to get laid, and these dumb thoughts was causing her to think things of her friend and coworker. Maybe if he left, she could pull herself together with a breather and everything would be fine. And maybe after work there would be a seedy bar open and she could mingle with strangers. Maybe a walk of shame will kick her ass back into gear. 

Instead her current distraction shrugged, “I have time before going back to work; I was curious about hearing the interview. And I uh- kinda need my shirt before going back anyway.” 

It was a good thing Nichole had spoken with Britton the day after the interview. She didn’t sleep well that night thinking about everything Kyle had said at the station, and when she confessed such to Britton he had felt the same way. He was able to speak to DJ Little Bird about cutting some of what he said out. 

He took one of the stools and sat, leaning against the top of the storage cabinet, returning to his drink: shirtless.

She stabbed herself one or two more times. 

_Fuck_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a lighter note I went down a rabbit hole of listening to basically everything Aaron Tveit sang and his covers both stop and restart my heart. The man can literally sing anything. ANYTHING. 
> 
> Technical Terms yaaaayyyy
> 
> Table Saw: A table with a large circular saw attacked to it to cut large pieces of wood.  
> The 'Shop': workshop where ya build the sets and whatnot.  
> Light Plot: Blueprint of all the dimmer boxes and where to put the lights for even exposure.  
> Clamp: A C-Clamp in this case is the part of the light that tightens around the bar to attach. There is also a safety cable for security.


	10. Elephant Love Medley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an Elephant in the room....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Moulin Rouge Musical social media pages posted the following on July 4th:
> 
> "The revolution is not over until there is justice and equality and freedom for ALL. This Independence Day, keep fighting! #BlackLivesMatter"
> 
> Below is the photo they posted with it (that I do not own)

~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ ~♫~ 

“I don’t believe that,” Dysus grinned, dipping his brush into the paint can to bring a thick stroke against the freshly cut flat. 

Dysus, after his first plunder, was able to successfully help Joker with putting up the rest of the lights, and even got a chance to use the light board before switching off to help with the shop construction.

Being a dancer as a young Turian didn't equate to him being an artist; being asked to paint was a little daunting. But they were a little behind schedule and he was willing to learn; a human woman on the crew took the time to tach him the technique and left him on his own. 

For a short time. 

No more than a half hour later he was briefly summoned by to the costume shop to take Nichole with him and ‘get her away from sewing’. Nichole didn’t seem to mind, she actually laughed at the event, explaining to Dysus as they went down the long corridors that she was well aware she wasn’t meant to be a seamstress.

So here they were: painting a flat on the stage to give the crew more room. Dysus didn’t know how it started, but soon they were getting ahead on the twenty questions game, and just….talked. 

A beautiful laugh bubbled next to him, “It’s true! My dad took his shotgun and chased him down the road for a mile; no one else set foot in our neighborhood to sell again, not even girl scouts.” 

What was it humans said? 'Time flies when having fun?' he couldn't keep track of the time but he certainly felt it spinning. “What are girl scouts?” He tried to keep things light hearted, a part of him excited to be learning so much about her childhood and family. It was better than getting into his own past, and he liked listening to her. The way she lit up during happy memories infected his own mood. When she told jokes she was confident, when she acted on stage she was fierce, but when she talked of an upbringing in a populated, bustling city she seemed...youthful. It was a shame her father had died. He _thinks_ he died, Nichole said everything in the past tense.

Nichole methodically moved her brush in wide X’s to spread the paint in her section (as passed on by him). “They’re a group girls can sign up for to get involved with community service, embracing femininity, but also learning how to camp. I mostly know they sell cookies once a year.”

Dysus bent down to dip his own brush in the can. He was learning so much about Humans from today alone. “Sell cookies? This helps the community?” 

“Oh definitely,” she laughed, reaching up on her toes to reach the bare corner of the flat with the tip of her brush. 

“You sure you got that?” Dysus straightened, both impressed by her determination and skeptical. 

Her voice strained with concentration, as she shot him a glance. Her long hair pulled above her head to fall behind like a fluffy rope. “I think...I...got it…” 

Gravity was not patient with the star actress; and with a last attempt to reach the high corner Nichole adjusted her foothold and she gave a small jump. The action flicked off a blob of paint below and splashing on Dysus’ face. Out of instinct his hands were already out to keep her balanced, his eyes slammed shut. 

When she stopped rocking Nichole noticed the damage. A hand flew to her mouth, “Oh my gosh! Dysus!” She stared wide eyed for one beat, then two, then three crumbled into a fit of laughter. And Dysus couldn’t help but laugh along with her; it was contagious. “At least it matches,” She giggled, stepping away and snatching a nearby rag to start wiping at his face. 

He squinted, trying to not let the glob of red paint fall into his eyes, but finding it difficult to look away from watching her gently working to remove the collateral. She was right, it was the near exact shade of his marks. 

It was a silent moment that wasn’t quite awkward, but Dysus couldn’t control himself or decide whether it was more polite to purposely look away or not. Her blues kept reaching him from beneath a strand of her tall ‘ponytail’ shifting in front of her like wings. She was above him, her scent everywhere. When had she guided him to sit down? A small rumble of annoyance bubbled, he couldn’t just hold himself together. 

Then a fingertip brushed against his brow. And it wasn’t an accident.

The woman was almost studying him, her trace along the plate slow and curious. Was she tracing his marks?

Nichole snapped back and retracted immediately with an apology flying from her lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” She twisted the cloth in her hands, “It’s just that your face feels a little different than your hands.”

He clamped his mandibles shut before they could give anything away. His eyes focused back on the now healed marks on her exposed wrist and forearm. Ever since that day he’d been making sure to wear his gloves despite enjoying the feel of her skin when he danced with her. 

Enough Dysus, a voice in his head told him.

A new silence stretched between them. The Turian speechless of what in Spirits’ name to say to her. That he liked it? Why did he like that? Now with the pause she must think he’s judging her- 

“Why do you wear the gloves?” She suddenly asked in a quieter voice. 

Dysus relaxed on the chair, thankful for a question he could answer that had nothing to do with the fluttering in his chest. “Originally it's a part of our military equipment, but nowadays we wear them to not scare other species’, they can be...daunting.” Against his thigh he clenched and unclenched his fist, remembering the first and last time he didn’t wear gloves in public on the Citadel. He had frightened a human child on the transit. 

Nichole huffed, folding the cloth into perfect squares in her hands to toss on another closed paint can. “Well you don’t need to wear them here, and you definitely don’t need to wear them in rehearsal.” Her voice was final, slightly bossy, almost an order but not; because it was a tone he’d hear from maybe his sister or mother, when someone cared. He looked to her scar again out of guilt, and her other hand slapped on top of it. “No, Dysus it was an accident don’t let that make you have to cover up here.” 

With a flick of her head her hair flew behind her, and that’s when he saw the red mark on her face. Panic impaled him from within and he was on his feet, full height, his hand coming up to hold her face steady. There was a first aid kit in the shop somewhere and his cruiser was parked down the block-

With closer inspection the room stopped spinning; the red on her face was just paint. 

It was just paint. 

Now his hand was cupping her face and they were very close, an all too familiar thrill of that illuminated night in Purgatory. Time around him froze once again; at this point the altering of reality as he knew it was just annoying, and nothing he's done has been able to help him. Not with his sleep (or lack thereof) or his focus, not his appetite.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t even take a breath, her mouth parted open just the slightest in surprise. If he just leaned forward….

Instead the small wire in his brain sparked back to life for a motor function. His thumb twitched and swiped at the deep rouge line splattered across her cheekbone. Somewhere in the distance crew members were in a heated discussion. The bubble around them popped; a reminder they were not alone.

“You got hit too,” He said instead, taking as much care to brush her skin while shutting out his stray purring subvocals. Control. Priestess Gaia was adamant on control. He needed to continue this lane change. “Why don’t you let me get that?” He suggested with a nod towards the bare corner of the flat. He let go of her face much to his dismay and stepped back. “I have the reach.” 

She raised an eyebrow: a sign she was about to argue, but then she rolled her eyes and smiled, “Fine, you and you’re….height.” 

“And reach.” He repeated, thankful to turn his back to her for the abandoned paintbrush. He closed his eyes, berating himself. Control. _Dysus, control yourself_. It always came back to her, no pretending made it any easier. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way, maybe his distraction was a byproduct of stress?

~♫~ 

“Nichole? Dysus?” Joker slowed his pace in the aisle of the House with a barely visible face from their position under the bright lights. Dysus almost broke his back straightening himself out. “Don't you guys have somewhere to be?”

Nichole leaned back, eyebrows sinking the slightest in thought and snapping back up. “Ah shit!” Her Omni-Tool flared to life with the time. “Double shit! Rehearsal! We gotta go!” She shared a look of panic with Dysus before snapping around to bolt backstage to cut upstairs. 

His brain stopped lagging as the mental calendar finally caught up. “Uh-” His mandibles slacked, “Shit.” _He_ was a part of rehearsal today.

Joker cupped one hand at the side of his mouth, “I heard it was at the Pit!”

“Tripple shit!” Nichole came to a near screeching halt and nearly had Dysus crashing into her. She was apologizing purposely in half whispers and dancing closely and haphazardly around him in a way that should not have made him feel the way he did. She ran. He followed her. They had lost track of the time, it felt like only a few minutes they were on the stage; he had blocked his entire morning to help at the Theatre. 

She didn’t even look as she plucked her bag from the back seat of the house; Nichole was fast when she was in a rush, Dysus almost didn’t have to slow down to not run her over. They rocketed to the lobby in a single breath.

“Shit shit shit we’re gonna be late!” She began saying once hit by the fresh recycled air past the front door. Dysus turned down the street to the right where he parked his cruiser just as he caught a muffled “I guess we gotta run for it.” When Dysus turned back to ask if he heard her correctly, a brunette was already halfway down the block. 

“Nichole wait!” Wasting no time the Turian scrambled back a step and rushed to the vehicle. He nearly swore with the buildup of frustration yanking on the doors once, twice, three times before it unstuck. There was just no way she was about to run all the way to the Pit from here. His thoughts tried convincing him otherwise, but from his windshield view she wasn't even slowing down; that was the run of somebody willing to go across the Ward to make time. The drive core within sputtered to life and Dysus shifted into gear to try to catch up to the fiery woman. 

The shell around him groaned with the order which made him worry if either of them were going to make it to rehearsal. Alive. Maybe running was the better option.

But it was too late to ditch the death trap and opt to just carry her across the Ward because she was already by his side running with glances through his window. 

“Dysus?” 

“Get in i’ll drive you!” It came out more of an order, but she didn’t seem to mind. The brakes needed to be double tapped before she could hop in and that’s the moment Dysus realized he fucked up. She closed the door and he sped off up into the air to the nearest open lane. 

His talons tightened against the steering, trying to instead stay focused on the traffic and not the star actress of the musical sitting next to him in the ugliest, smelliest cruiser in existence. It was never meant to have guests.

He was starting to regret this decision a lot. 

She put on her seatbelt, looked in front of her, next to her, behind her, then back at him. She must have noticed the red sand smell, the cracked speedometer in flashing neon, the many many stains he could never get out and not even sure what they were from-

He sniffed again. Her running had heated her body temperature and with that he could smell her sweet fragrance above the musk in the skycar. Sweet also something else, something so incredibly _her_. A lady like her did not deserve to be shuttled in this. 

A small choking noise cracked from the back of her throat. His talons ached as he readjusted to turn the gears swiftly, jerking around the shuttle in front of him into a new lane. A blob of paint had dried on the knuckles of his gloves. When he glanced daringly to his side, he saw she was smirking, but tightly- like it hurt. Was she?-

He was answered by another odd choking sound, her smirk breaking wide. 

“Don’t say it.” He warned, his subvocals both amused and annoyed by the situation. How could he even look at her? She had every right to judge him for this trash heap in his control. 

A horn blasted from behind them followed by a flash of dark emerald of a- much nicer transportation- flying by followed by the roll down of a window and gifting a rather profane callout. To avoid an accident there was a bit of uncontrolled swerve with maximum rattle from the drive core to the seats beneath their hinds. 

The movement, combined with the unnatural speed this vehicle probably hasn’t experienced except for a lunch run, rocked the two of them more than it should. Smoke rolled up from a crack of the hood. 

Nichole started laughing, a loud, deep laughter he’s never heard from her before. “I wasn't going to say anything but-” She broke off into another howl of a laugh; her tone bleeding sarcasm. “This new?” 

“It’s borrowed,'' He said firmly, trying very hard to at least feign some sort of disapproval or guilt, but it was impossible. Any embarrassment he had felt dissolved with her found amusement. He found himself amused by the situation as well. Soon they were both laughing. 

Around them the buildings blinked by; they still had a few streets to go. 

Nichole opened her Omni-Tool with suppressed giggles. “I’m telling Amy we’re on our way; I can’t believe I forgot about rehearsal!” Nichole was shaking her head, her casual note obviously a cover to hide her disappointment with herself. She criticized herself so much when it came to rehearsal. She always did everything with exceeding expectations, and half the cast has been late at least once. Nichole never was. And he couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. 

“We’ll make it.” A new set of determination, and perhaps cockiness, emerged from deep in the Turian. She wanted to get to rehearsal? He was damn well going to get her to rehearsal. 

The gear shift nearly snapped off beneath his hand. His foot slammed on the brakes and inertia jerked them back against their seats. The buildings and shuttles were now cool toned smears outside their windows; he’s never driven this fast before, and nothing could have convinced him before to dare try this. The smoke trailed off their sides in thin lines as he exceeded the speed limit. It rattled, it groaned, but it kept going in strangled sputters. Nichole’s laugher returned as a cackle, a cheer of excitement, not danger. 

“Woooo! You can really make this car dance Dysus!”

“Just be prepared to jump out!” He called over the noise of the core’s roaring. “Not sure if this was meant for Theatre speed!”

“I’ll take my chances!” She was on the edge of her seat, cracking the window open to allow the harsh winds to stream at her face. Dysus watched her close her eyes, her sagging ponytail lifted above her shoulders. She shook her head and pulled at the string in her hair, letting it go to its full glory. Dysus turned his eyes back to the lanes in front of him. They were in an unsafe, should be dismantled skycar, going thirty over the limit and weaving like madmen through traffic. She was smart, she had to be, but she paid no mind to the death trap they were in. Which meant one thing. A warmth flooded his chest again; she trusted him. Or she was crazy. Either way he’d take it. 

They got to the theatre on time. Which according to Theatre Law was late. 

But he could do late, he thought to himself as he set down outside the Pit. Nichole stayed long enough to ask if he needed help, with the smoking hood and all. He urged her to head inside, he’d be right there, and he watched her thank him with a wave of her hand, throwing her bag over her shoulder and darting inside. 

He was going to be late late, a discomforting reminder echoed as he popped the hood. 

But he could do late, just this once.

~♫~ 

Dysus finished patching up the problem and closed the hood when he heard a voice call out, “Dysus! I thought I recognized that junk heap.” 

Lorenzo was walking against the building walls with his hand hovering for support. His breath was labored as if he had run from the House to here with his bag of many binders and a large thermos in his free hand. Dysus moved from his ride, putting his gloves back on while his eyes examined the man. He seemed more weighed down than normal; Dysus met the man halfway in a chuffed greeting to relieve the bag from his shoulder. For once, Britton didn’t even object. 

“It made the trip,” He tried to defend, then wonder why he was doing that. It could be because he needed to own up to his decision of transportation, or it could be because he received a good review from a particular passenger. 

Lorenzo instead of fighting for his bag back, nodded towards the door. “If it’s not going to explode I guess we should head inside then.” The Turian wanted to object that the company skycar was far from exploding, but with a final glance to his ‘repaired’ vehicle made him think twice. He could do the patchwork for days, but maybe it was time for an upgrade. “I saw you were nice enough to drive Nichole,” Lorenzo held open the door into the equally unsanitary building. “I left for the public transport before you left. I'm surprised you got here before me.” 

That got a chuckle of pride to emerge from Dysus, he could indeed call this a small victory. 

“Definitely not going to be making a habit of it. I apologize, we lost track of the time.” 

Britton released his grip from the stairwell side beam to wave behind offhandedly, “Don’t worry about it I know you two always show up. What were you two talking about that was so interesting? You seemed really focused.” He added a note as an afterthought, beginning a shuffle down the hallway at their stop. “I was talking to Joker while you two were painting.” 

It was an odd question, but Dysus had nothing to hide. “Casual conversation. Swapping stories.” Britton must be worn out, he was much slower today than Dysus has ever seen. He wanted to ask if he was ok, but every time someone did it was the same answer: Art has a price, and things would be fine once the show went up. They were less than a few weeks away from opening. 

“Oh? Like what?” His words quickened with interest. “Did she tell you about the first show I casted her in? That’s one of my favorite stories.”

Dysus shook his head, “She told me about her childhood mostly, some of her memories with her father.” The way she lit up when he asked her to tell him more flashed in his mind. 

Lorenzo stopped in front of him suddenly enough to silence Dysus from thinking of adding more information to the conversation. This was one of those moments where a person wonders if they said something wrong. Between easing breaths from the stairs Lorenzo chose his words carefully. “She told you about her father?” His voice was smaller than he’s ever heard of the director, and Dysus didn’t know how to respond except for nodding. Lorenzo seemed speechless himself, one of his hands coming up to clutch at a piece of shiny metal beneath his shirt Dysus never noticed before. 

“Sir?” 

The innate ability to stop calling Lorenzo ‘sir’ snapped him out of whatever his next thought was going to be. “Nothing.” But it wasn't nothing, so Dysus waited another beat as the gears in the Director’s head turned. His free hand came up to clasp Dysus on the shoulder, looking him right in the eye that had him leaning down to hear some big secret. “Don’t take that lightly Dysus.” And he was smiling now, had Dysus missed something? 

Asking was out of the question because his Omni-Tool chimed, “Ah it’s Amy wondering where I am. Yeah yeah we’re still-” Lorenzo checked the watch on his other arm, “-Late. Come on Dysus before they start without us.” The man kept talking in a one sided conversation all the way to the door; Dysus held the door open for him and he scrambled inside with that Britton energy flaring again. 

~♫~ 

She would dance, act, and even kiss Kyle for the show, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it. It frustrated her to no end how good an actor he was, because on the stage the way he looked at her no one would be the wiser of what was happening backstage. And she wanted to wipe the smug look off his face she caught between scenes when Britton or Ne’line stopped to give quick notes. Like he knew something she didn’t. Like nothing was wrong. 

It was the longest Act they ever ran, leaving her exhausted and ready to crash. The lure of hitting a seedy bar and finding someone with no strings attached didn’t have the appeal anymore. Tonight could be the night she breaks open the gifted ice cream and free herself of the tears. 

With one final reminder from Amy about getting Playbill bios to her (two days past deadline), Nichole shuffled her things together and flew out the door. She was sore from the rehearsal adding to the marathon of her mistake, but the last thing she wanted was to be around everyone on the transport home. She could have asked Dysus for a ride…

No, don’t even start. She owed him a proper thank you, and seeing him again so soon maybe wasn't the best idea, or she’d have to blob on some makeup and go out tonight to forget those striking marks over his smooth face. 

It was always dark in this ward, so she didn’t know how long she’s been walking lost in her own thoughts before she made it to her apartment complex. 

And a tall, dark Turian standing nearby. 

He was leaning somewhat awkwardly against the ugly gold colored skycar, now that it wasn’t smoking and instead appearing like a set prop for a junkyard shoot. But he looked handsome despite it all, catching her eye from meters away. “Nichole.” He waved a hand, pushing himself off the vehicle to meet her on the sidewalk. She uncrossed her arms, 

“Dysus? What are you doing here?” They weren’t supposed to meet for extra practice today, he’s actually been able to work with Hailey more, leaving their sessions to be workshop heavy. 

He went into the pocket of his navy slacks, something balled in his hand as he slowly took it out. He titled his head nervously. “I uh, I think you dropped something in the front seat…” 

Had she? The day was so crazy she hadn't even noticed something missing. His talons opened up and within his palm was a purple ball of fabric. She leaned closer to look at it, noticing Dysus glancing at anywhere but her and what was in his hand. That’s when she realized what they were. Woman’s panties. 

She stood back up straight and folded her hands in front of her. “I hate to break it to you Dysus, but that is not mine.” 

“What?” He looked at her disbelieving. 

She pointed to the wad in his hands and chuckled, “That’s not mine. Maybe all that shaking and swerving revealed some secrets huh?” Now he was staring at the cloth like it betrayed him, then the car- which definitely betrayed him. “I-I promise it isn’t mine.” He pointed out, balking at the audacity. “One of the compartments did fly open…” 

“You sure it doesn’t belong to one of your lady friends?” she teased, swaying back and forth with her purse. A small sound of disgust rose from the Turian, squeezing the undergarments and throwing it into his car through the driver window. “Funny, but no. I do not own this monstrosity of a vehicle.” He slapped the top of it to make a point, and something under the hood rattled. He lifted his hand back up and Nichole smirked, 

“Borrowed huh?” 

“Not for much longer...” He murmured through clenched teeth. A ping resonated between them and Dysus lifted his forearm. He swiped quickly at the notification. 

“You can get that if you want.” 

“Work email. Not important.” He dismissed, standing back up to face her. He looked good for someone who just finished a two hour rehearsal run-through. Curse Turians and their lack of sweat glands. Nichole took a half step back to make sure he didn’t have to smell her sad post rehearsal state. An awkward silence stretched between them once more, a group of drunkards slurring to each other blocks away. Then they spoke abruptly at the same time. 

“So uh- I guess I should-”

“-Have you kissed Hailey?” 

In the jargon of word vomit Nichole had to keep rolling. “Have you practiced the kiss? With Hailey in your rehearsals?” She should have let him go, she was letting her plan of a quiet night slip away. It wasn’t an overstep, it was about the show, he had to get that. 

His left mandible twitched, but otherwise he gave nothing away. “No.” He began slowly, “Hailey and I haven’t...gotten that far.” 

So it was never really discussed. That was a problem. Knowing Hailey the kiss was never even on the table. The assertive side of Nichole found something to help with.

“Are you worried? About having to kiss?” 

“Uh-” he hesitated, turning his head in that way that made him so adorable. “Not that i’m- well it's just different.” 

“Why? Haven’t you ever kissed an Asari?” 

“Not all Asari like to kiss, not like how Humans do.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “And Turians don’t do that either. We don’t have the lips for it.” She was aware, and how they had sharp teeth and blue tongues An’la praised for explicit reasons. That girl was an open book about anything.

“So what do you guys do?” She asked, shaking the images out of her head and taking a few steps closer.

He tapped his forehead plate with a talon, “We press our crests together. It is an incredibly intimate thing we do to our mates and close family.” 

She’s seen something similar in old movies, a rare gesture she associated with true love. “That’s adorable.” She’s never seen a Turian-Turian couple around doing it though, much to her dismay. She’s caught glimpses of public affection back home; her guess was most other species weren’t as open with their relationships. Dysus was giving her a look of apprehension that made her scramble for more words. “No really I really like that, so i’m guessing that would be weird to do for the show?” She plopped her bag gently onto the hood of the car and leaned against the aide next to him, copying his cross-armed pose. “So you’d have to kiss the human way no matter what?” 

“It’s not exactly taboo, but I don’t think it would fly very well with the...stigma.” 

“It’s not hard,” Nichole assured him, “You just need some practice.” 

He snorted, “If we’re being honest: I don’t think Hailey is comfortable with me, at least not to do that.”

“What about me?” 

He stopped, “w-what?” 

Her heart pounded in her chest. “You’re comfortable with me right? You’re an understudy, and I promised you I would help you get show ready, and if you need to kiss then I’m going to make sure you’re ok with it.”

_What. The fuck Nichole._

“I uh-”

“Unless you don’t-” 

“That’s not what-”

“Gosh i’m so sorry i’m a fool-” she pulled at her hair and stepped away from him and the car. It shouldn’t have been a problem, it was a legit, work related proposition. Kissing on stage could intimidate anybody, and she’s never shied away from it so why was this so different? 

She knew why. 

And it wasn’t fair to him.

Dysus came up behind her, his hand hovering over her shoulder. “Nichole are you alright?” 

Breathe in. Breathe out. The escaping breath dragging some of the tension in her body with it, the night air suddenly cold. “No Dysus, i’m not. I just haven’t been able to handle myself lately.” 

His hand fell to his side. “I don’t understand?”

This would have been a better conversation anywhere else, not in the wide open of the lower Wards. There would have never been a better time or place to say what she needed to say and she knew that. She wasn’t being honest with herself. “I like you dammit!” She twisted on her heels to face him; nearly shouting was not her plan. “I ‘like you’ ‘like you’, and maybe its because i’m lonely and maybe he’s right that i’m not capable of being alone- I thought maybe a one night stand would help and maybe An’la mentioned Turians and stress relief but then I thought of you and it felt so wrong and I don’t want to fuck up our friendship!”

The word vomit accumulated; Nichole always knew what to say, how to flirt and turn her body to get any man's attention when she wanted it. That’s why the bars were so easy. No strings attached, no worries, just an adventure with a complete stranger. Even if Dysus never looked at her again at least she said it, she had to, or else the last few weeks would have been a facade. She had to prove to herself that she wasn’t crazy, that she didn’t fabricate those feelings relapsing from the only continuous relationship she had over the years. It was a leap of faith she’s never taken before. 

Dysus was staring at her this whole time. Not a single movement or sound was made to show her he even heard what she said. So she waited. Dysus was always patient with her, she needed to be patient with him. She needed to hear the verdict. 

A low rumbling sound vibrated between them. The drunkards in the distance faded away, the only sounds now were occasional skycar horns in the evening traffic beyond the horizon. Nichole thinks she could hear her roommates above shouting excitedly about something. Hopefully their neighbors wouldn’t call C-Sec again. 

Dysus glanced to the side down the empty street, the post lights giving him an incredible glow. “In Turian culture, stress relief can be either with arranged sparring matches or…” He drifted off, shifting his weight between his feet. “So yes... An’la was not wrong, and if this is you...propositioning me? Well…” His mandible twitched twice, “ _I_ trust you, and think of you as a good friend. I could uh- help out, no strings attached.” His words felt tighter now, rattled of what to say. His words sounded true, but shaken, like it wasn’t the answer he was searching for. A beat passed before he made a decision, and placed his hands on her shoulders, “But...I’d be lying if I didn’t say… well I want to say-” She held onto every word, beckoning him with her eyes to not be afraid. She could take it. Rejection wasn’t new to her, she’s owned it after years of working as an actress. But what he said floored her. “I want to say I feel the same way. About liking you- if it’s what i think you’re saying uh-” He caught himself, closing his eyes for a breath, his voice like a babbling brook even in whispers. “And I wouldn’t…” Two small suns looked into her, and with them, a sort of longing. “I wouldn’t... want it to be a one time thing.” 

Her brain threw up a memory, a fuzzy, vague memory under neon lights and drowning in booze. His face close to hers with a question he never asked. Asari snacks and a night traveling to the bathroom unknowing to his every word when he protected her.

“I don’t think I want that either,” She said, surprised with herself. She didn’t want a one night stand like she thought she did. “I like spending time with you Dysus. And I am a mess I don’t- I don't want to rush like I always do. I want to know what i’m feeling.” She swallowed. “I’d like to see you more and find out?” 

Relief washed over both of them it seemed, his rigid shoulders slumped and he let out an exhale. His mandibles fluttered open. “If you’d like, I’d be honored. And there’s no rush Nichole. We’ll take it...slow.” he took a half step back shaking his head, “My knowledge of Human courting doesn’t extend past the musical.”

‘I think you’re doing fine.” She smiled, “Nothing sexier than a man who can serenade.” 

“Then I will look into that.” His tone was far more relaxed, like how he spoke to her just this morning; the brief awkwardness and tension began to crack. The glass walls breaking down to let in something new and exciting. Butterflies filled her stomach. “I should uh- probably go then…” He nodded towards his window, “And I will go home and- throw out the...miscellaneous.” 

She shook her head, drained of her energy reserves for the evening. She grabbed her purse and slowly moved towards the building door. She could hear the handle of the skycar door yank once, followed by a grunt and a second pull. 

One last bolt of energy ignited and she clutched her purse and ran to the open door. Dysus was halfway in his seat when she dropped her bag and grabbed both sides of his face to press her lips against his plated ones. She sucked in a breath. It was quick, long enough for her to register the surprisingly leathery feel and how he did not pull away until she did. She opened her eyes to see him blinking at her. She gave him a wink, 

“ _That’s_ a human kiss.” She snatched her bag again, a burden lifted off her shoulders so quickly it was like she was floating on air. Her hips swaying wildly as she backed up watching him mouth agape, reaching for the door handle several times before closing it. She gave him a wave, her back bumping against the door keypad. Dysus grinned, and it was enough to make her feel like jelly all over again. 

The skycar pulled out from the street just as a joyous, loud shout fell to them from above. From the window of her apartment, “Wooooo! Fuck yeah about time! Woooo!” 

Above her with the smallest light from within shaping the silhouette, Greg was leaning half of his body out the window with a drink in hand, watching the car speed off. Nichole caught his eye and laughed. 

“With frustration: Shut up!” Another voice shouted from a window across the street, the frame filled with the larger form of an Elcor. “Reasoning: We are trying to sleep here!” 

“You shut up! My friends are kissing here!” Greg retorted back to the stranger without a care in the world of his volume. 

Nichole stepped out into the sidewalk and waved her hands up in an ‘X’. “No no Greg,” She muttered mostly to herself. This was another thing she’d prefer not be spread like wildfire. Taking it slow did not mean having the entire company aware that she was maybe seeing a Turian. The titles, or whatever they were, had yet to be decided, and she didn’t want to trash Dysus’s personal life any more than it has backstage. Five minutes. Let her have five minutes.

Luckily Greg was good at charades and got the picture quick. “I mean! No one’s kissing-” He lied poorly- “-but I sure wish they were!”

“Dismissive: I do not care! Shut up!” The angry voice called again, truthfully not giving a shit what had happened in the streets below. Greg waved his hand out before disappearing into the apartment. Nichole rubbed her forehead. Hopefully no one inside heard that. She wanted to be able to have this to herself, at least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated writing this chapter, then I loved it, then I was skeptical of it, then i'm like 'alright I think this is ok'.
> 
> Special thanks to LiteralPantry again for the assist.


	11. Meet me in the Red Room (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends. This is a part one of two chapter. I have been having issues with the last scene but wanted to release something for you all. Hopefully i'll get it done soon, thank you for your patience.

_‘I’d be honored’? Really Dysus that’s the best you could think of?_ If one could sound any more stupid, Dysus could pass on his award. Words were never his forte really, they especially weren’t well formed around her. So he climbed into his skycar feeling a bit uneasy of his poor affirmation right before two soft hands grabbed him by his mandibles and pulled him into a kiss: a human kiss. 

It wasn’t like at Purgatory, it wasn’t a friendly kiss given out of appreciation; she had crashed into him, sucking all the air from his lungs in a single breath. He was stunned, unsure exactly what was happening besides the warmth flooding inside him. In all the ways he expected this to feel from the countless times he witnessed her and Kyle on stage, this was...so much different. But he didn’t hate it. In fact, with the way her soft soft lips felt against his mouth plates, he had no words. All he could do was scramble for the doors to leave the premise before he did anything really stupid to mess it up and take away that practically _wicked_ smirk on her face. The machine at his command listened to him with little protest just this once, able to uphold his dignity and growing confidence with only a small cloud of smoke. 

In front of him the phone speaker, the one thing in the Skycar that actually worked, started ringing. Dysus opened the connection without reading the ID and was greeted by pure raw enthusiasm. He had thought he imagined the cries from above them as he drove away, but he was oh so wrong.

“ _Dysusssss you did it man you did it!_ ” Greg’s voice thundered over the speakers, Dysus scrambled to turn down the volume. “ _Quick give me the details before I black out!_ ”

His friend had mentioned not going out tonight and just ‘taking some time to himself’, this was not what he thought that meant. “Are you drunk Greg?” Then again, this was Greg he was talking about. 

A hiccup broke up his demeanor. “ _A little._ ” There wasn’t any music on, but he did hear voices, probably coming from the TV. So chances were this conversation was safe. “ _I’m not allowed to talk about you-know-who but I wanted to tell you i'm proud of youuuu you two are gonna be so cute together._ ” The man was slurring heavily; Dysus thinks he heard a thump noise and rattling ceramic followed by a grunt. This definitely wasn’t a few drinks.

Dysus thought he had a chance of getting his attention until he started singing. “Greg. I’m going to need-” 

“ _The greatest thiiiiing,”_

“-You to listen carefully.”

 _“You’ll eeeeeeverrrr learn….”_

Was he really quoting at him with his number? High pitched and off key? “Greg.”

“ _Som’thin’ som’thin’ loooveeee…”_

He tried his ‘work’ voice. “ _Greg_.”

“ _Mhm?_ ”

He relaxed, “This has to stay a secret. Okay? She wants to take things slow.” 

“ _But-_ ”

“No buts Greg,” Dysus put his eyes back on the road before another thought popped in his head. “And don’t tell Rico.”

“ _Dysussss come ooonnn I can be- Oh hiiiii Nichole look Dysus it’s your girlf-_ ” 

There was a muffled static over the other end before a new, more welcome voice came on speaker. “ _Hey Dysus, I’ll take care of him._ ” She sounded breathless, her hushed words enough to give him back the last thirty seconds of his life. His talons itched to the controls to turn up the volume. “ _I’ll...message you later?_ ” He could hear the protests from a distraught Greg nearby, and Dysus shouldn't keep her. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” 

He could hear her smile. “ _‘Kay….”_ She didn’t hang up immediately, and he wanted to believe she also wanted one or two extra seconds as truth he wasn’t dreaming. Then she seemed to catch up to herself, _“Have a good night then._ ” And she clicked off. 

It was enough to make him almost speed to his apartment to jump in a cold shower. Almost. His company skycar, however, would not be able to take it. The night dragged on as he crawled his way back to his Ward, the streets cleaner and better lit, but lacking the feral energy he's come so much to enjoy. 

He greeted his spartan living quarters in a haze, his mind foggy. She kissed him. She kissed _him_ , and it wasn’t just for the show. She wanted to see _him_. 

He needed to do some research. A lot of it. 

Grabbing his own drink from the small private bar he opened his Tool to start a browser when he caught the missed message from work. It wasn’t unimportant, but there was a priority meeting with Qui’in tomorrow. He marked it on his calendar with the self reminder to submit the new schedule for the next few weeks with the show. 

Coming up was Tech Week, which the cast and crew alike have dreaded with the cover code: ‘Hell week’ and Dysus was told to be extra prepared. No more mistakes. Perfection all the way. Then right after that the doors would open. 

His talons stilled over the keypad from noticing the other alert in the corner of his eye. He had a missed email on his personal account. Submitting send on the acknowledgement Dysus took a swig of the room temperature liquid, burning the back of his throat to tell him he wasn’t imagining things. The last thing he expected was hearing from his father. Usually when he heard from him, it was rare, and a lecture of some sort. He was riding a high, certain nothing could ruin his night, and opened the email. 

Nothing jumped out at him for one, and it wasn’t entirely a complaint. It was simple, plain, and went right into its purpose. 

_I heard from Lorik today. Your promotion although delayed is a step forward to being the contribution to the Gracchus family legacy I had hoped for. He tells me this could even take you up the ladder to a higher Tier, but only if you follow the rules._

_Working with barefaces outside of law space is not what I wanted of my own blood, and I hope for my better judgement you know what you are doing. It would be disappointing to see you being once again careless of your decisions. Sergeant Thax will always have an opening for you at Clipitrine Academy if you decide to change your mind._

“So much for the surprise.” A promotion, that’s what Qui’in had planned for the meeting. It was great news, something he’s been working at that company for for years. If it meant better pay and a title to possibly keep his father off his back he’d take it. He couldn’t even be mad that his father wedged into his personal and professional affairs like some eager manager, he’d have to act surprised at the announcement from Lorik tomorrow. It could be a good attempt of his acting, something Priestess Gaia, Ne’line, and Lorenzo were constantly reminding him to try. 

All in all news of a promotion definitely wasn’t the best thing that’s happened today. 

He smiled; with a promotion maybe he could buy his own skycar, something nicer to drive Nichole to rehearsal with. Not even his father’s lackluster pat-on-the-back could deter him from the hopes he wore on his chest like medals. 

Outside was the ever busy nightlife blissfully unaware of the things transpiring. The flash of lights blocked by speeding cars in flickers. He hummed in thought; he imagined if hope was an object, they would be diamonds. Bright, sparkly, like her. 

He downed the rest of his drink and got ready to retire. Sitting up in his Turian style bed Dysus lay awake conflicted over his dozens of forming questions only to give in to the growing itch and asking the extranet for help. 

Searches for human courting weren't going so well, there was just so much. 

He would have to ask Greg, who would be beyond willing to assist. 

Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. 

Before he rested his head, Dysus took a chance to send one last message to the star actress, and quickly fell asleep. 

~♫~ 

The stars would tell you It was going to be a good day when waking up to a message from the man- or Turian- you kissed.

D: _As far as a first time went, how did I do?_

Nichole sank into her cloud pillow and typed a reply. 

N: _Not sure, I think we need to practice more ;)_

She didn’t have to wait long for a response. 

D: _Right. The show has to be perfect._

_What’s this? ;)_

N: _It’s an emoji, it’s supposed to look like a winky face._

D: _What’s the point?_

N: _It’s cute, and we can express emotions through chat._

There was a pause, giving Nichole the opportunity to roll out of bed and throw on a decent shirt and pants. She checked the time. She promised to help Britton today before her shift. But she still had twenty minutes or so. She looked to the floor to make sure Greg was still asleep from her moving about. He was out like a light.

Her Tool buzzed and she plopped back down onto her warm sheets. 

D: _So what would I have to type to tell you I'm looking forward to seeing you again?_

Greg be damned, her lips pulled back into a tight smile, covering up with the back of her hand to suppress a giggle. He was so adorable. 

N: _I think your words work fine. How about today?_

D: _I have a work meeting this morning, then vocal with Priestess Gaia before the all-call rehearsal. Tomorrow?_

N: _All day rehearsal. Then I got the late shift at the Diner._

_We have a break on Thursday before Hell week!_

D: _I should have an opening, what did you have in mind?_

N: _Well I wouldn’t mind doing a little rehearsal…_

D: _On our day off?_

N: _Dysus, not that rehearsal._

The pause told her he was figuring it out. 

D: _I like that plan._

_;)_

_I need to head out; i’ll see you at rehearsal._

_The actual rehearsal not the ‘rehearsal’._

N: _You’re funny._

“You’re in a good mood,” Greg groaned from deep in his pillow. “Someone speciaaaal?”

“Maybe, and you almost blew it for us.” Nichole sat up, finding a little amusement in his miserable state despite him almost telling the entire neighborhood she was kissing a Turian. 

He just had on his briefs and a cropped hoodie. Rolling around in his slab of a bed for a grasp of equilibrium. He threw a dark skinned arm over his eyes. “If my memory serves me well, I acted my way out of disaster.” 

“Bravo _Toulouse-Lautrec_ , you said words while drunk.” He stuck his tongue out at her and in turn she tossed her pillow at him, plopping on his head. “You going to be able to come with us today?” She changed the subject. 

A low pained groan was her main answer. The real answer was coated in a dramatic hush. “The stars. Can’t do it. Not today.” Nichole sputtered into giggles. “Save me a poster?” 

“You know it.” Her feet brushed the ground and she hopped up, crossing in one step to bend down and snatch the pillow on top of her friend and return it to her nest. 

“Can you turn down the radio?” He moaned from behind. 

She stopped in the doorway, listening to the normal silence mixed with neighbors. She frowned, “I don’t hear anything.” 

“Oh noooooo.” He clapped his hands over his ears and rolled over again to face the wall. Nichole placed a glass of water next to him before closing the door quietly, and shuffling away.

Lo and behold she wasn’t the only one awake this early in the morning. At the counter of their tiny kitchen Kyle stood stirring a cup of coffee. His hand was still wrapped with gauze. She hasn’t asked him how his hand has felt since they talked, only to double check she hasn’t caused more injury when they rehearsed together. It was assured he would be fine before opening, counter-acted with the large amounts of pity and pampering some of the girls gave him- and that he accepted- with small glances to her every time it happened. Cocky looks. 

They locked eyes and she stood still, like a deer lost in the headlights. He wasn’t looking so cocky now, which meant his other personality was in command, the more dangerous one. His gaze broke off to return down to his mug. 

“Where are you going?” He asked.

The headlights were gone so she was able to relax. Her automatic response was to answer him. “Meeting up with Britton and Ne’line. We are picking up the posters and flyers for us to hang up.” When they had started dating Kyle always cared for her safety, double checking with any outing she planned, and persuaded her from selected nights with girlfriends under the claims of lurking danger. Her morning plans today however, were not remotely dangerous. 

The answer pleased him, he gave a slow nod. “After?” 

Nichole shifted where she stood, eyeing her shoes by the front door, but for some reason unable to commit to getting them. “Work. Kyle you know I work.” The bite in her voice was new, but it didn’t seem to deter him. A neighbor down the hall turned on their sitcom channel full volume, vibrating the walls with shrills of melodrama. Nichole took this as an end to the conversation and moved towards the door. 

“I miss you.” His voice sent chills up her spine, lucky he could not see her face.

The front door felt so far away now. 

“Why won't you answer my calls?” 

If he meant the many many messages left on her device that clogged up proper notifications then she was not particularly ready to answer that. 

He wasn’t really waiting for answers as he was airing dirty laundry. “How long are you going to be mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad Kyle-”

“Then drop the act and just, come back. We can work this out.” 

Working it out had crossed her mind a thousand times. Because they always did work things out after she made some sort of mistake- he always was willing to forgive her. There was really nothing she had to forgive him for so the notion of a discussion was…

_I think you could do better than Kyle._

That nagging phantom hush in tones not of her own kept returning whenever she saw his face. A part of her had inwardly joked she was hearing the voice of her father, giving guidance from heaven to his little girl, but the voice wasn’t his, _definitely_ not his. There was the chance the devil was planting seeds of doubt in her mind too, but she dismissed that as well. Regardless of its origins she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Kyle shifted from behind the counter,

“Whats wrong with you? You hear anything I said?” How he could bother to sound like he cared irritated Nichole. 

She went for her shoes. 

“The show is opening soon. I think it would be better if we were just coworkers and friends right now.” She didn't want to spill out the ‘its not you its me’ speech because she did not want to talk about what was going on with her. There was a reason she needed Greg to keep his mouth shut tight. There was so much more she should have said to back her statement, but one hard pleading look to him was all she could muster. 

Her and Dysus might not even work out, but the thrill about trying was too much to ignore. 

Kyle huffed, grabbing his mug and turning out of the room. “Fine. When you’re done being a drama queen, you know where to find me.” 

~♫~

Nichole could never get used to the Strip. In the beginning it was a fantasy come true, a dreamland of hazy-perfume clouds and pockets of whiskey and the sound of credit exchanging from Tool to kiosk. Making her way to the dark Theatre along a line of disco lights and vibrant money floundering became a silver lining of small joy. She could close her eyes and almost imagine herself back at New York. The smells were vastly different, and the sounds were louder and more exotic, but city life was still city life. It didn’t completely fill the hole though, she was a woman who wanted to get out of town and see the galaxy, but a part of her will always belong on Earth. 

She held tight to the bag stacked with the paper flyers in her arms as the three of them made their way through the morning crowd. There was always traffic and activity on the Strip, a small portion of drinkers reviving from an inebriated slumber. 

Ne’line and Britton were lovely company, and the way they talked to each other made Nichole wonder what she actually knew about Britton. She came to the conclusion a while ago they have to have known each other longer than the show, but she hasn’t really had the time to ask how. Some invisible shield seemed to linger over the two, something too precious being locked inside. 

Well she took a chance last night, she might be on a winning streak. She saddled up next to the two of them to now create a blockage wall of the entire sidewalk. “So,” She started lamely as the biggest indicator she was going to ask something suspicious. “How did the two of you meet?” Britton looked up from his watch, “What, me and Ne’line?” He huffed with a smile, “Since when do you pry so much?” 

“I’m allowed to be curious,” She deflected, skittering behind him to allow an angry looking Salarian pass. She leapt forward back to her spot. “You never had an assistant Director before.” Ne’line laughed at the far end, adjusting her bag of posters. 

“You’d be surprised how little it took me to convince him.” Her eyes dazzled fondly to him. “But he didn’t need my help.” 

“Don’t be so modest Ne’line.” Britton chastised her before returning to Nichole, “I’m at that age Nichole and I had to admit some help would be nice. But to answer your question I’ve known Ne’line for almost thirty years.” 

They rounded the corner to their street. The Eternity Theatre sticking out like the one house without christmas decorations. For now. 

She tried not to act as surprised as she was. “Britton! Why didn’t you ever tell me?” This made her a bad friend right? Well they were friends but definitely more the mentor/mentee way. He’s never mentioned Ne’line- well- ever. Her thoughts went to every mundane conversation ever had with him to see if there were puzzle pieces left behind for her to pick up. 

The Eternity Theatre’s gravity began to pull them in. Home away from home.

“Britton Lorenzo! Britton Lorenzo!” 

The group turned from their path to see a woman approaching them with a set determined face. Her hair was cropped to her jawline as she waved something in her hand to get their attention. She wore a fitted blue long sleeve dress with a thick red stripe down the front center lined with golden bars golden bars to contrast. Behind her a small drone floated. She came to a stop and raised the object in her hand in a sort of preparation, her eyes hardening.

Britton took a step forward in front of the two ladies, “That’s me. Can I help you?” 

The woman turned on ‘the tone’ that Nichole was expertly tuned in to to know exactly what occupation this woman has and why she was here. “Khalisah al-Jilani: Wusterlund News. Would you answer a few questions for our viewers?”

Well that was certainly a mouthful of a name. Britton didn’t even hesitate, although she noticed him straighten his posture, looking like it hurt. 

“Of course.” 

Jilani activated her Omni-Tool and her little drone floated forth, shooting out a blinding light on Britton. The object in her hand was an old fashioned microphone. “This is Khalisah al-Jilani, down at the Citadel Strip with Britton Lorenzo, Theatre Artist and Director of the revival of a twenty-first century musical right here on the Citadel. Mr. Lorenzo, what made you want to bring the arts to galactic space?” 

The man beamed, “We as humanity have so much art and music in our history, this was a way to share it with everyone else.” He glanced to his counterparts in pride. 

Jilani nodded, “Is this show a stance against humanity by leaning towards favoring other species?” The question was a hard stop for the three of them. Nichole shot a look to Ne’line, but she was gazing hard at the reporter now. Nichole bit her tongue to try and hold back from lashing out. It was out of grace that Britton’s neutrality held, but she wasn’t done. 

“Sources tell us you’ve hired a few Asari, a Quarian, and even a Batarian.” The tone of her voice was less than pleased, more appalled with each species mentioned. “Most notable of all a _Turian_. Is that a wise choice knowing they attacked us no less than thirty years ago? Do you fear aliens will get in the way of your vision with their lack of reverence? Is this the best we can expect of a professional production when stooping low to hire outside of our species?” At this point some passerbys on the sidewalk made a wide berth of them, giving them odd looks over their shoulders. 

Was this an interview? Or an interrogation? She was lucky to have a bag in her hands to wrap her fingers tightly around. Otherwise the alternative would be inappropriate. Everyone worked damned hard on this show. 

She could see Britton’s smile become far more forced, like it was a game he was expecting, but not wanting. “Theatre is for everyone. Species doesn’t matter, and everyone was given the equal opportunity to try out. Our cast and crew- these kids worked hard to put this together and I think everyone should see their talents.” If Nichole wasn’t behind Britton, she would have never noticed the hand twitch behind his back followed by an immediate action on Ne’line’s part. The woman succeeded in jumping into the conversation with such grace you would have never known the conversation was about to end. 

“If you’ll excuse us, we have a rehearsal to run.” Ne’line swooped in with a tone Nichole never thought she’d hear from her. Before Julani could even open her mouth to object Ne’line had taken Nichole’s arm and the three of them shuffled away inside through the front doors. 

Inside their sanctuary they lingered by the glass, probably to make sure the damn reporter didn't follow. Julani stood rooted in her spot, turned to her camera probably spewing some more nonsense. 

“What a bitch.” 

Ne'line snapped her head in a surprise. “Nichole!”

She wasn’t deterred, even though it felt like a scolding from her mother. Nichole crossed her arms as a small shield keeping her eye on the reporter. “She is. How rude of her. She should be happy we’re doing this.”

Britton turned from the doors and made his way slowly within the polished lobby. The floors had been deep cleaned, a slight smell of pine wafted around them. “She is hard-headed. I’ve heard of her reports. Always asks the tough questions.” He patted her on the back. “Nothing to worry about right now, whatever fallout we receive we can take it. There’s more than one news station on the Citadel.” 

The idea of ‘falout’ gave her more anxiety than she would ever confess. She tried to think positive. “Like with DJ LittleBird.” 

Britton, smile and all, started to shout in agreement, but it broke away with a sudden howl of a cough. He wheezed the words through attacks. “Exactly. And more importantly: word of mouth. You can’t argue with results. You’ll see.” He cleared his throat, assuring his wellbeing to her with a soft smile. Ne’line and herself were unconvinced, but willing to continue onward and not make a scene with the conversation he would surely dismiss. 

Nichole checked the time on her Tool; of course the scene eventually had to end so another could start. “I’ll see you at rehearsal then.” She pinched a couple of posters out of Ne’line’s grasp. “And I'm taking these posters with me.” 

They laughed away the concerns of the morning and swapped out her flyers, bidding temporary goodbyes as they went their separate ways. It would take extra time, but it was probably better for Nichole to sneak out the back to go to work. If she saw miss Khalisah al-Jilani again it would be far too soon, and Nichole probably wouldn’t have been able to keep her mouth shut if she did. 

~♫~

To be continued in part 2


	12. Meet me in the Red Room (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who had no power for a week and couldn't work on this?   
> But i'm back in action to finally finish this chapter. Thank you all for your patience. You rock.

~♫~ 

It didn’t matter how many drinks were spilled on her or how many dirty looks she got from her customers. The shiny freshly printed poster hung loud and proud inside the Diner. Well, it was in the back next to the bathroom door as ordered by the manager, but it was still an advertisement. Duke was on shift with her and they tag teamed a plan. She filled up everyone’s cups to the brim every time she passed. When a customer got up and headed to the back, she’d do a little dance. 

Anything for the show, right? 

“Did she really say that?” Duke shook his head as he helped stack the plates onto the serving platter for Nichole. Busy hour was nearing its end, giving her the time to recall the horrid woman who jumped them outside the Theatre. 

“And more. Britton has the patience of a Saint I don’t know how he does it. Even Ne’line looked ready to throw down.” 

“She must be a piece of work then.” Duke picked the stray paper in the corner of the booth and straightened to drop it in a glass. His eyes stared past her head. “Nichole.” 

Nichole picked up the tray and followed where he gazed. The back wall by the bathroom was decorated with two slim corner puzzles separated from its larger piece. Somehow within the past hour someone had torn their poster down. Duke sighed. “I can put mine up there. I’ll just grab another later for Purgatory.” Nichole shifted her hands under the tray, balancing more than just leftover food. 

“Maybe we can put it by the cash register? So customers can’t touch it?” 

He beamed, “Good idea Nichole. I have to greet the next customer so i’ll- scope it out.” He gave her a nod before returning to his post. The waitress turned in the aisle and dropped off the dirty dishes in the wash line, scraping the plates into the trash. Her thoughts were drawn to what Britton had said. She assumed people would be upset. She just didn’t think humans would be part of the problem. 

Well they’d just have to suck it up. 

~♫~ 

Hell week was upon them, so today was the first full run of the entire show on the stage in the Theatre. The crew has been working overtime to get the building in shape. The smell staining the rooms was gone, replaced with that new paint smell. The audience seating for the most part was completed, and now the poles were only in places they wanted them to be. The lights were all hung accordingly. Well it wasn’t perfect, but it was getting there. 

Upon arriving at the theatre an hour before call time; Nichole sat her bag down in her chair in the dressing room and took a deep meditated breath, leaving all work and drama outside. It was time for her to clean up and shine bright once more. She started to strip from her stained uniform into something less greasy and comfortable.

The door at the far wall squeaked open (she would have to inform Britton about that) and she caught a bulky form filling the doorway from the corner of her mirror just as her shirt was being pulled above her head. The figure made an audible stop. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” 

Nichole hid her smile at his expense. Dysus looked like he could kill a man but always acted like a sheep of God. She couldn’t even imagine him raising his voice at anybody, let alone hurting someone. The woman pinched herself discreetly to end those thoughts. Trying to find something possibly wrong with him was not a good way to start the...what was this exactly? They weren’t exactly dating, not yet at least. Her insides were a bundle of nerves, more so now than when they just existed together. Now she has something to lose, and self sabotaging was apparently something she did. 

She flung her shirt over the back of her chair and rifled into her bag for the extra top. Modesty was minimal in the Theatre world, and Nichole has been fairly comfortable with her body, and figured a Turian would care less about how she looked. 

Still she felt the need to assure him. “It’s fine Dysus,” He wasn’t looking at her, finding a spot on the floor more interesting. She tried to hide the sting in her gut that maybe he was repulsed by her, and quickly pulled on her top. “What’s up?” 

His eyes shot between her face and the spot on the floor before recognizing she was again fully clothed. “I needed to talk to you. I’ll uh, wait outside-” 

She was going to protest, there was nothing wrong or weird about the situation, but the more he  _ made _ it a situation, the more she felt herself conceding. “Alright alright. Meet me in the red room?” She suggested quickly, turning away to motion to her pants for removal once he was gone. The Turian took it as an order, a slight salute caught out of the side of her makeup mirror, that he caught himself doing and squeezed his eyes shut on his way out. She held in a giggle, imagining him groaning inwardly out of self embarrassment. 

He was learning at least. 

Her appearance was slapped together quicker than a show change, but Nichole wanted those few extra seconds just to make sure her hair was tidier or to double check there weren’t any dark circles under her eyes. 

He wasn't himself, that was for sure, something about the way he spoke, not just how he refused to meet her gaze. It couldn’t just be because she was stripping was it? 

_ Not now Nichole… _

Thankfully uninterrupted she dashed her way to the green room/red room which was also thankfully empty aside from the lingering Turian by the counter. His talons were plucking at the small paper sign about cleaning up after yourselves to keep the bugs (and space rats) out. 

Nichole kicked the door stopper out from under it and let it close behind her. She puffed out her chest before he noticed her. 

He seemed so nervous, but what it could be… then it hit her. She gave a sly smile to herself, they had some time before check in, he probably wanted to have a little fun but not be so forward. What a gentleman. She didn’t mind the thought right now. 

He beat her to the punch of talking, turning to fully face her, but floundering on words once more. “So….How was...your day at work?” 

Oh yeah, definitely nervous. If Nichole was good at something it was breaking the ice. She tilted her head and looked up to him through a portion of her hair. “If you’re trying to start with small talk before…” She flattened her back to the door, “Well i’ve had a long day and we still have time for a little ‘rehearsal’…” 

He blinked. Then he blinked again. “Nichole…” He sighed, and gone with his breath went any attempt of her trying to be flirty and fun like when they texted this morning. “My meeting today.” His gaze fell and he exposed his neck, his voice dipped to an almost murmur. “I got a promotion.” 

This was a complete one-eighty from how she thought this was going to go, but it was a much better development. She pushed off the door. “Oh my gosh! Dysus that’s amazing!” And she meant it, he worked super hard, even if he didn’t tell anyone. And the fact she was hearing this from him and not from  _ everyone else _ was the most exciting part. She danced with the idea of asking if she was just special to know first, and if that was the kind of special treatment a girl could get from him then she might have chosen wisely. She wound down though, keeping her composure and joy for him on the down-low. She didn’t want to be too jumpy; it was an attractive trait to be clingy. 

So Nichole took a few small steps towards him instead, beaming with white teeth, when he didn’t reciprocate, her smile faltered. “Dysus? That’s awesome right?” She took another step, just out of reach to touch his arm. She held back though, despite the magnetic pull making her want to touch him. After all she was the one who wanted to go slow. She needed to follow her own damn rules. 

“Yes, I’d say it’s ‘awesome’.” That got a small sort of laugh from him, dying off with a hum in the back of his throat. “But that’s not all.” 

~♫~ 

He could have messaged her, he could have hid it, he could have not made a huge deal out of it, but the bottom line was her opinion was something he wanted in the end. 

He knew from the second he walked into Qui’in’s office something was up. Rajil was there, and both of their postures meant business. No morning jokes or jabs, one of Raj’s favorite pastimes, and he knew he wasn’t in trouble, but the tone felt beyond ‘promotion’.

_ “Synthetic Insights reached out to me.” _

_ Qui’in sat forward in his chair to fold his hands together. “It's a little risky dealing with a company outside of Council Space, but if this old Turian can learn from you two it's to take risks. A deal’s been made.” _

_ Rajil picked up from there. “They want you to lead a branch of our company assembly- focusing on V.I tech, You’d be a managing ambassador.”  _

_ Things were looking up. Dysus never expected his career here to make any progress. He more or less expected to work at his spartan desk until he died. This did shed some light on the accosted email from his father; Synthetic Insights landed on the list of many things the patriarch disapproved of. On the other hand, a promotion with only minor disapproval from his father was a steal. Rajil must have had the same thought, and was probably holding back on exploding in glee until later in the breakroom or dark corner of Dysus’s own office. An office that might get new lights. Maybe Dysus would get a new office altogether. A string of excitement formed inside him; he couldn’t wait to tell his friends. _

_ Qui’in lifted his head, straightening against his chair in an air of forbearance. “But, as the humans say: ‘the devil is in the prenup’.” standing behind Qui’in, Rajil shifted on his feet.  _

_ Dysus cocked his head, unfamiliar with the expression having spent a lot of his time with them. His boss continued, choosing each of his words carefully. “The promotion comes with a transfer.” _

_ He stilled. Rajil, the friend he was, knew the very thoughts running through his head. “The Promotion would mean relocating to Noveria.”  _

_ What was the proper response to this? ‘Yes sir thank you sir’? _

_ “This is a huge opportunity, Dysus; they are adamant on you as the spokesperson for this deal.” _

_ “When would I have to go?”  _

_ “As soon as possible. Without any specialty raiders in current, Rajil can oversee the factories while we get a new manager- something we obviously needed from what I've seen of your results.”  _

_ Noveria was lightyears away, and the unspoken knowledge was that taking this job meant he’d had to give up his ‘extra curricular’.  _

_ “Uncle, let him think about it.” Rajil quietly pleaded. _

“Oh.” Nichole failed miserably to hide the shock and almost disappointment in her voice. It broke his heart. “So you have to leave?” 

Dysus nodded. 

Her face scrunched between indifference and concern. Her hands pressed against the sides of her legs, like something to grasp instead of the space between them. “You’re taking it?” 

“I don’t see much of a choice.” he had acquiesced to the orders of his boss and mentor with little words before leaving the office several hours ago. But the conversation played in his head all through vocal practice. “I don't want you to....hate me because of it.” he turned away from her to readjust the small paper sign on the counter once more. The hum of the cooling unit rattled around the room. “They’ll let me think about it, but I was asked specifically for the job.” It was a lame excuse and they both knew it. His subvocals gave a small sound he knew she couldn’t hear or understand. “It was only fair to let you know first.” 

Nichole rubbed her arm at her side, biting her lip. “So what does that mean for-” 

“Five minutes ‘till start!” A voice boomed through the very walls around them from across the theatre. The two of them jumped; Amy could shatter glass with her power. “Everyone better be signed in- we go on time!” Dysus and Nichole looked at one another, before wordlessly leaving the red room to gather on the stage.

Right now they had rehearsal. 


	13. Come What May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends. Thank you for your patience. Let me know if things come off as confusing? There's just so much stuff involved with Theatre and I want to include as much as I can but I don't want to confuse everybody with it.

Their first run through on the stage took almost five hours. The adjustments needing to be made was a little more than anticipated once Lorenzo saw what was happening. This was nothing as others told Dysus, in fact they told him to not be surprised if all of Hell week rehearsals ended up being just as long. Joker last night was frustrated to no end, trying to readjust lights for the Q2Q coming up next. 

For once Dysus was not at the Theatre, nor was he at the factory. Unable to sleep that night, he tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning considering talking to Nichole or Greg or Rajil. Rajil checked in with him, but they both knew the same thing. This promotion was not just great monetary gain or status gain- this was a Tier worthy succession. Dysus’ status in the Gracchus family would be widespread to other clans besides his own.

And if he took the job, packed up and went to Noveria and exceeded like Qui’in believes he would- would his father change his mind? Would he have a son he could be proud of after so many years of one sided arguments and longstanding silent treatments. He remembered the messages from his siblings asking about his personal life, and Dysus doesn’t mind talking to his brothers and sisters, but in the end that information had to be funneled back to the patriarch. That all ending was a huge plus. But in that ending would be other closing doors like the one to the Eternity Theatre. 

That’s where his thoughts would backtrack. The last few months have been the most hectic in his entire life. He has caught the contagious confidence of those around him and thrived, if he stepped away would the door lock behind him? 

Then there was his social life.

“What are you thinking?” Dysus looked up from his spot on the floor to see Rajil’s shadowed form in the doorway of his office. Rajil his friend was here, not his manager. Dysus still didn’t have an answer for him. “I figured,” Rajil continued, closing the door behind him and shutting both of them into the dark room; Dysus didn’t bother turning on the lights this time, what little they would still do. Rajil walked over and eased his way down in the nap corner with Dysus, sitting up against the wall with his knees up as much as their spurs would allow. 

“When does Qui’in need an answer?” He had to schedule how much time he had, what he could possibly say to either side when it was the finish line. 

Rajil picked at a flake of lint on his pants, “Immediately would have been nice, but I convinced him to give you a day or so.” 

“Appreciate it.” They sat in silence. 

“You know, you don’t have to take it.” Rajil casually shifted his body to adjust, “I know you know and I know your dad and the ‘Gracchus family name’ are important to you, but-” He flicked a mandible, “I’ve never seen you so happy.” 

“Service before self Raj.” Dysus deadpanned the slogan like a thousand times before. Self was a sacrifice he’s made too many times before; just the thought of Greg’s face once he knew (or if he knew already) was something he wasn’t looking forward to, nor the hidden sad look from Nichole who had been holding back for his sake. He really messed that up. 

His friend gave a low hum of understanding, “So we’re told. But wasn’t it a particular Turian who was able to live two lives for the past few months?” 

Dysus didn’t know, or even if one of the lives was a reality to stand with. 

  
  


~♫~

Next to telling Nichole, telling Lorenzo was just as hard. Due to protocol it was Lorenzo who had to know first, and the conversation has been stagnant to say the least. It would be a breach of contract, and his choreography would have to be rearranged during the rest of Hell week until they could get a replacement, but not once did the Director think it couldn’t be done should Dysus take the job. But the sad look in his eyes told Dysus he had a different opinion on the whole affair than what he was saying. 

_“It would be a shame to lose you,” he finally said, turning away to cough into his sleeve. “But you are meant for great things Dysus. I know you worked hard for it.”_

And he did. He worked so hard, but saying goodbye to the humans dawned on him to be a difficult task. His Omni-Tool had been also strangely silent against his bitter wishes. 

After sulking in his office he took the chance to face the varren one last time and help out Joker. He brought a box with him from the factory; in it a gift far more bittersweet than intended. 

_“Dysus you’re leaving?!”_

_“We heard you’re leaving the show. You got a big fancy promotion or something.”_

_“Is it true?”_

_“Do you hate us?”_   
  


_“I guess we aren’t important enough.”_

Word had got out somehow, but he knew Nichole had nothing to do with it. She had promised him that much. Some crew members and sprinkle of cast for last minute costume adjustments sought him out upon arrival. He didn’t really say much about it, he hadn’t quite decided yet. 

“There,” Dysus finished inputting the last strain of code with the installment and took a step back from the board. 

Joker gave off a noise he would hope was him being impressed, but he couldn’t really be sure. “Damn that was fast,” The man eased out of the chair with a creak and adjusted the cap on his head. “Now please tell me what the hell you did and if I should hurt you or not.” 

The light board flickered on and off in an array of dozens of colors, before a brief wash of blue waved over all button lights for a reset. A soothing, calm female voice emitted from within. “ _Analyzing database_.”

The human jumped so quickly something popped. “What the fuck?” 

A small orb appeared on the display screen at the top right. “ _Hello: Jeff Moreau. I am an Enhanced Defense Intelligence, also known as EDI._ ” 

Joker sputtered, “Defense intelli-”

“- _Virtual_ Intelligence,” Dysus cut in like a blow, “Synthetic Insights let me look at their excess supply. This VI was scavenged from the outer terminus and repurposed a dozen times over.” The paperwork alone had made him want to scream. “I got a good deal.” On the stage a few of the construction crew workers were finishing last touches on the bar set scene. 

Joker rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry, crossing his arms defensively. “Ok so what is a defense VI doing here? That’s what they use in the military dude.” He strained ‘defense’ to emphasize the possible legality terms being crossed with having one for performing arts.

“ _My roles have been repurposed to assist with the program of this: Avolites 30-01-4000P_ ,” The voice continued undisturbed. “ _I can save energy and time on decision making for in show movements of various LED’s and tracking. Should an emergency arise, I can implicate a flawless transition._ ” 

He looked to the Turian now, eyes wide with possibilities, but mistrustful of the implications. “Dude, we can’t afford this.” 

Dysus was well aware of this fact. He brushed the edge of the lightboard with his talon to wipe away fake lint. “It’s not a sale. It’s a gift. Consider it a donation to the cause.” After all the show has done for him, it was only fair he gave back. Money never meant much to him anyways, he only had a sizable amount because he never spent it outside of necessities. 

“Dammit man getting all sentimental and shit, especially since you’re leaving.” That stung a little, but he was right. He was walking a grey line right now. 

Right at that moment Lorenzo grunted his way from the top of the stairs towards them. They still overlooked the balcony for the week. Once Q2Q ran Joker would have his own ‘booth’ in the back still being finished. Interesting enough, for once Ne’line was not with him; lately Lorenzo had been working too many hours it seemed, and Ne’line barely left his side in case he finally crashed. Although weary, he at least looked good today. 

“Dysus, why don’t you come with me?”

“Yes Sir.” 

Joker gave a small wave before turning to his new partner in crime as it were while Dysus climbed up the aisle to the top of the balcony to follow the Director. He gave him a warm smile for no reason at all. 

Lorenzo led him down the stairs; down each hallway he hoped to see a glimpse of long brown hair. He hasn’t seen or heard from Nichole all day. 

“I overheard your little conversation.” Lorenzo began slowly. “You know I can’t accept that.” 

Dysus figured as much, but wouldn’t give up without a fight. “It was sitting in a warehouse anyways.” He lowered his head to get through a doorway not meant for his size. “You deserve some real tech.” He also wanted to point out that all he got them was a high tech assistant for the mess of whatever theatre tech light operations as, and from the look of the equipment he saw (and helped) load in he didn’t want to take any chances of something exploding. 

“We’re able to along fine but-” Lorenzo stopped at a corner and coughed into his elbow. “Joker is about a half step away from combusting; I think a popped vein would break one of his bones before Q2Q.” He laughed at his own joke and waved for Dysus to follow him inside a room, despite the loftiness Dysus was feeling concerned. Was this a lead-up for the disappointment talk? 

“Take a seat Dysus.” 

This was the men's dressing room, finally cleaned from the tools and tarps of the remodel, and they were not alone. The cast stood around the room silently, staring at him. The thought of an intervention sparked dread in his chest, but a hit of sympathy. They didn’t like the decision he had to make. He didn’t blame them, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth like when his family hated his decisions before. 

He looked at them all again for a second reading, suddenly noticing their attire. Humans and Asari alike- all wearing matching jackets, and it was not a costume piece he was aware of. 

Dysus slowly strolled over to the empty chair in turn from its pairing counter space and mirror for dressing and eased into it. Finally a chair that was comfortable enough to work in. 

An’la stepped around another dancer to get a better view, bumping into Rico’s side by accident. They shot each other violent looks before crossing their arms and promptly looking away from each other. Hailey was examining her small jacket on her, lifting her arms and twisting her body for the details. Duke was resting against the far wall with one leg propped up and his hands in his pockets. 

Nichole was there, and she and Greg stepped forward, a large bundle in her arms. Without a word she offered it to him. 

“What’s this?” Dysus found himself filling the space with his own voice, everyone else failing to speak up. He took the cloth in his hands, and opened it up in front of him. 

It was a thicker fabric than Turians were used to, so it felt plush beneath his talons, but there was a comfort to it so inviting and soft. Similar to theirs Its sleeves were puffy and deep red like the Musical’s theme, the chest area was black with red buttons down the middle. With a second inspection there was no denying by the huge excess collar that this jacket was tailored for a Turian. 

“It’s cold on Noveria,” Nichole started, rubbing one of her arms with her hand, “we’re just going to miss you is all.” 

This was… a gift? For him, even though he threw a omni-blade into their entire plan. He squeezed the fabric enough to test its squishibility. Everyone in the room wore them with a sort of pride, Humans and Asari alike, once upon a time accepting something like this would perhaps put him in lower graces publicly. 

“Look at the back,” Greg whispered. 

To not poke holes or tear the new article of clothing Dysus turned the jacket around. In large glittering gold letters was a title logo ‘Moulin Rouge!’ with small illustrated lights, and beneath it was his name in the same font.

Greg smiled, giving him a wink. “Amy got the measurements from costumes, it was designed by our lovely Duke with a little edit from mwa- and everyone pitched in so we could all get them.” “You’ll always be a part of the cast no matter what.” Nichole smiled at him, that same smile she gave him when they first met. 

These humans were loud, sometimes insane, and kept coming back working late nights that made everyone cranky. They worked in secondary low pay jobs to sustain themselves, but just barely. They lived off of cheap quick foods and they still did this. 

Rico had broken a record for keeping quiet for so long, but from the back he shouted, “Just don’t forget us ok? Maybe take some posters with you?” 

Some weak chuckles floated in the air around them,even one from An’la next to him against her better judgement, a bittersweet gathering with people- some he still didn’t know personally- yet still felt authentic care from them. There was a reason the past few months have been more than just a side job. 

“I didn’t take it.” 

All the smiles vanished from their faces. Nichole and Greg gasping in synch. 

“What?” 

Dysus felt a burden lift from his shoulders the second he had said it. He rested the jacket in his lap to look at the cast. “I didn’t take the assignment, and i’m not going to.” 

Ne’line from the doorway stepped forward from Lorenzo’s side, “But it's a huge opportunity you’ve been given.” 

Dysus stood from his chair and laughed at that word ‘opportunity’. He held the jacket in his hands, now overlooking everyone in the room. Duke, Santiago, Greg, Lorenzo, Hopkins, all of them. Nichole most of all. “I have my huge opportunity. We’ve worked hard for this.” His talons squeezed the fabric again, “I’m a Turian, we don’t like to back out.” He rested his eyes on Nichole unblinking, unable to keep his mandibles from nervously twitching, hoping she didn’t hate him. He’s been pulled into her orbit for so long he couldn’t just walk away without trying.

And in her eyes was a glint of something far better than just elation; it was a spark of hope for them. 

The silence was immediately broken. “Fuck yeah thats my boi!” Greg sobbed, rushing forward and throwing his arms around Dysus awkwardly, “I knew you wouldn’t leave us!” A chorus of loud cheers fired off around them. And Dysus couldn’t help but cheer along like a pack of varren. 

“Oh Thank God.” Hopkins sighed, “I really really didn’t want to rearrange the entire blocking because of you.” The noise died down as she checked her Tool, “Alright everyone! Joker wants us on the stage for places so we can get a head start on Q2Q! Double time!”

There was no time to get reacquainted with everyone in celebration, but the way his fellow dancers looked at him during Q2Q was enough. And the whispers and texts from his friends. Greg was spamming the crap out of him. Dysus just saw another notification right as he sent his formal email to Qui’in. His talon hovered over the send button. 

Another notification popped up. 

G: _Dysusssss we gotta celebrate tonight!_

G: _But you gotta wear the jacket!_

  
  


N: _Hey, you okay?_

Dysus looked up across the other side of the stage where Nichole was sitting on a bar table set piece; swinging her legs back and forth. Above them the lights suddenly dimmed to a deep violet with conversation between Lorenzo and Joker carrying down from the booth. The violet tones lit up her dark shadowed form, highlighting the lines of her slender neck as she tilted her head to the side to allow her hair to fall down. At her side was the soft glow of her Tool. 

D: _Yes, I'm sending my answer to my boss._  
  


N: _ouch. For what it's worth i’m glad you’re staying, but I’m sorry you have to give it up._

  
  


D: _I am not sorry. I get to spend more time with you._

  
  


She laughed and was quickly shushed by those around her before typing excitedly. Next to her with his heightened vision Dysus spotted Kyle standing nearby. He had shown up sometime before the start, wearing his own matching jacket comfortably. He scowled at Dysus’ presence, more than usual. It almost felt like a challenge as Kyle inched closer to her side wherever they waited for Joker or the director's call. There’s no way he knew, but Dysus had to repress some irritation from it. 

N: _You sly dog! :D I’m glad we get to spend more time together. Once the show opens it will be much less crazy and we can do something together. You know, get to know each other more._

  
  


D: _I’d like that._

  
  


_What’s a dog?_

~♫~

Opening night came with all the bells and whistles of excitement and anticipation. That smell was finally gone, the cameras in the dressing rooms and bathrooms taken down, and with the added lights, fresh paint and cleaned curtain…

The Eternity Theatre was completed, fresh, new, glossy; a diamond in the rough shining bright even in the Silversun Strip. She stuck out all right, and Britton Lorenzo liked to think of it as all positives. 

Said man was leaning heavily against the Stage manager podium station backstage-left watching the two C-Sec officers finish with their inspection. They still had to uphold proper codes after all. They had walked through to check every nook, cranny, and doorway without as much as as a single comment.

“Everything seems to be in order Mr. Lorenzo.” Officer Bailey said- more so to his datapad, walking over to sign off of the paperwork. The man reminded Britton of the dozens of soldiers he worked alongside in the Alliance, even his haircut was clean, but he didn’t have any tags to suggest service. 

The fact that this man was taking charge of the call and not his Turian partner said a lot too. The Turian officer was just as tall as the rest in matching uniform armor, standing off to the side glancing at the ceiling at all the lights probably looking for any discrepancies. Beneath it Britton sensed a hint of curiosity, eyeing the various tech in the booth with as similar yearning Dysus seemed to have. 

There wasn’t a chance C-Sec would send someone who would try to shut them down for fire code issues, but the idea was still possible and luckily not viable. The Turian has been nothing but civil, even more relaxed than most officers- or Turians- Britton has met. Dysus an exception. And judging by his blue colony marks he resided from Palaven.

There was a youth about him that probably explained his ease of working with humans like his partner despite the annoyance. 

“Clear!” A voice shouted and immediately Britton and Bailey shifted closer to the wall as Tali raced past with a cord in her hands, probably fetching something for Joker. The brief flash of a Quarian raised some eyebrows in a manner of speaking to the two, but Britton coughed into his sleeve to return their attention. 

“Thank you Officers.” Around them the area was bustling and the entire cast still hadn’t arrived yet. So many last minute triple checks to do, and the presence of C-Sec wasn’t exactly good for the vibe. 

Sensing an end to the inspection, the Turian wandered in the social circle, still glancing around with sharp eyes. “For your other inquisition, if any problems arise please do call.” 

Britton nodded. “We hope to see you again as audience members. In fact here-” Britton hid the shake of his hand to pull out some extra flyers to hand to Bailey next to him. “Why don’t you take some of these.” 

Bailey stared at the papers with a hard no, but then he shrugged, “Sure why not?” 

“I doubt Pallin will let you hang those up,” The other officer informed in a tired warning.

The man turned on his partner, “I can keep them at my desk, and I know it will annoy him.” 

The Turian stopped dead, both eyes blinking behind the eye piece visor on his face.

The next question was directed to Britton. “Can I have some of those too?” 

Bailey chuffed, turning to leave, “You got balls Vakarian.” 

After Britton showed them out through the back shop, a calming presence shifted behind him. He knew who it was even from her silence.

“We should have requested they stay here.” 

Britton adjusted his ‘fancy’ business jacket and turned to his partner. “There won’t be any problems tonight Ne’line.” The workshop was currently empty, lights dimmed for the time being, they would have to be turned off before the house opened. “They were just empty threats from angry people.” 

Ne’line had on a pretty formal long emerald green gown. Even with the slight frown on her face she looked as perfect as always. “We shouldn't take that lightly. And we should tell the cast and crew.”

Britton held out his arm as a gesture for her to take so they would talk somewhere more private. With the chaos of crew members running around speaking low was easier. “We will, just not tonight. They worked hard for this and they’ve been stressed all week.” 

The Asari shot him a pointed look, “ _They’ve_ been stressed?” Her face melted into a smile, unable to keep a straight face of what he knew was to chastise him. 

He smiled, “So we’ve _all_ been stressed and it’s a big thing tonight. Let them have this; Amy will send an email for us all to meet later.” He helped her down the stairs off the stage into the house. He had to oversee warmups and give a rallying speech to break a leg. He patted her hand, “It’s going to be fine.”

~♫~

“Nichole did you see the Windmill!” A dancer shouted the very second Nichole stepped in the dressing room foggy with the fumes of hairspray and makeup. 

It smelled like home. “Yes! Isn’t it gorgeous!” She bounced over to her spot at the counter and began stripping out of her uniform. The massive display outside on the Theatre towered over them like a large Christmas tree, wrapped in a thousand twinkling lights. It took her right into the poster of the film she so loved her whole life. 

“We’ll have to take holos after the show with it!” 

“Yas!” 

“That’s a great idea!” 

“We’ll have to do a cast picture!” 

Hailey, focused on putting on her makeup, shouted into the aria round her. “Don’t forget dance warmups are in eight minutes.” 

“Thank you eight.” Half responded half grumbled, the dancers hurrying up with their current objective to be ready. 

An’la leapt from her seat and left the room with a few other dancers. Nichole returned to her chair with arms full of costumes when she spotted a large array of flowers on An’la’s station. 

She didn’t need to peak at the attached card to see who it was from. A small ping of hurt snapped in her chest as she recognized the very flowers she had been given for every show she’s been in since getting with- 

“Last call for dancer warmup!” 

Nichole’s eyes stared at the flowers a moment longer, “thank you dancer warmup.” She murmured, before shaking away the uneasiness and beginning her hair and makeup. 

~♫~

After dance it was time for mic check and vocal warmups, which the entire cast had to do before last second prep. House was about to open. Everyone was bouncing on their toes as they formed a circle on the stage. Ne’line led the warmups as Amy crawled into her chair backstage and put on her headset. She was already tired and the show hasn’t started yet.

She was replying to a message from someone working with selling tickets about a minor dispute when Tali saddled up next to her. She gave a dramatic breathless sigh. 

Amy laughed, still looking at the message. “What?” 

“Everyone here is so good looking.” The Quarian stared off at the stage wishfully. 

“Show me.” Amy perked up immediately as Tali pointed out a few of the dancers. 

“Holy shit is that Dysus?” Amy gasped, staring at the Turian at the far side of the circle with astonishment. 

Tali giggled, “I _know._ You would only see a Turian like that in _Fornax_. Everyone is looking at him.”

“Your Pilgrimage didn’t prepare you for these sights huh?” Amy joked. “This is basically a glorified strip club with show tunes.” Amy has seen more of a Turian than she ever thought was possible in a public place. He was probably the definition of eye candy to other species. 

“ _Hey just letting you know your headset is on,_ ” Joker came through her earpiece.

She pressed the talk button. “Yeah and?” Amy pipped in. “Are we not allowed to talk about our gorgeous friends?”

There was a pause. “ _I have no comment on that._ ” 

“Nichole is so pretty,” Tali awed as well, Amy finally seeing Satine reading her own warm up with the group. Nichole was a pretty woman, and more importantly not a fucking drama queen. Well they all were dramatic but at least Nichole respected the tech crew. Kyle was a drama queen, Amy could not stand the guy no matter how talented he was. 

Speaking of Kyle, he wasn’t far from Nichole, everyone in the circle holding hands and taking a few moments of silence for meditated breaths. Kyle was between Duke and An’la, and Amy saw brief flickers from the corners of his eyes to look at Nichole with a look on his face Amy would find unnerving. 

He wasn’t the only one catching glances though. 

Amy poked Tali and pointed to Nichole, then across the circle. The Turian wasn’t following orders very well, sneaking glances at the woman in her grand opening costume piece with a much different, softer look. “I ship it.” The Stage Manager whispered. The Quarian nodded furiously.

“ _Hold on who are you shipping?_ ” 

“Nonya.” Amy snapped half teasing, returning to the stage as the meditation ended, and Britton climbed the stairs to address the group for one final speech. Tali checked the time, then excused herself to get to the booth. 

After the cast excused themselves back to their dressing rooms. The Curtain was closed, and the House doors opened. 

They go in thirty.

~♫~

“House is open guys!”

“Oh my gosh we have an actual audience!” 

“Keep it down!” 

“It’s really small…” 

“Well then they get an extra special show.” 

“Anyone see my character shoes?” 

“Rico did I sound a bit off to you at warmups?” 

“Anyone have any extra teabags?” 

“Can I borrow someone’s hairspray?” 

“Hailey, that makeup looks _so_ good.” 

“Kyle one of your buttons fell off.” 

“Break a leg everybody!” 

“Break a leg!” 

“Break legs everyone!” 

“We’re gonna rock the house!” 

“Places!” 

~♫~

Britton looked around. He knew DJ Little Bird and DJ Facto confirmed they were coming, but he hasn’t seen them. 

It wasn’t a great sellout for opening night, but it was at least half the house. Mainly human. A rare speckle of other races here and there, friends or family of cast members. 

They made their way to the balcony seating, as they were the only ones up there. He wouldn’t be a distraction from taking notes on his notepad. 

Covered by the darkness as the lights went down, Ne’line rested her hand on top of Brittons. 

The audience members were all in their seats. The stage was still and waiting. 

~♫~

“Standing by.” Joker replied to Amy on headset, hands poised over the controls with perfect concentration. 

And the maestro raised his hands, and the overture began. 

~♫~

Kyle, Duke, Nichole, Greg, Charles, Santiago: what a charming group of young artists. With writing his notes and checking messages from the techies and updates from ne’line who was talking to Amy- 

The first half hour flew by. Britton had noticed the handful or so of audience members getting up in the darkness of the Theatre to leave, he hoped those on stage didn’t notice. They didn’t seem perturbed if they did, and Britton knew he had a good cast.

Soon it was the Pitch Song, and the Director prepped his pen and paper just in case. Rico better find his damned light today. 

Charles began the ‘floundering’ of his lines to Duke. 

_Oh, the story! Ah! Yes, uh-_

_There'll be_

_Lovers_

_And singers_

_And entrepreneurs_

_Depravity_

_Ecstasy_

_And love that endures_

Good start. Good energy. He scribbled. A hand on his arm assuring him to relax and enjoy the show for once. He looked to Ne’line and lamented, trying to relax in his chair as the actors danced around the stage. 

_A tale of love_

_And death_

_And sex_

_And money_

_Dancing and away we go_

_Sweet satine_

_Who plays our ingenue_

_A sparrow singing up and_

_Down each avenue_

_She wears a thin black dress_

_And tells a tale of woe_

_Of pain and loneliness_

The audience seemed invested enough, a few chuckles here and there. A good sign. 

_One day, everything changes_

_When she meets a man_

_A man_

_Unlike any she has known_

_He's uh-_

_A ventriloquist-_

_No! He's a matador_

_Striding across the sands of destiny-_

_No no no_

_He's a sailor-_

_Yes! A sailor! That's it_

_A man who has spent his life voyaging across the turbulent seas_

Charles had excellent energy at this part, Britton secretly scribbled down the note to make sure he told the actor to keep it up. There was a tickle in the back of his throat, he tried to clear it quietly so the audience wouldn’t be disturbed. 

_He's been searching for a mate_

_And now it seems like fate_

_A gift from God above_

They would have to run this number a few more times if they could, Britton made a mental note to himself. Maybe they could get Hailey and Dysus in on it just in case. He knew ysus could do it, Hailey might need some extra practice, but if the two haven’t really been working together since h had Nichole helping the Turian... 

_A love divine forevermore_

_Their bodies intertwined_

_But fate has many other things in store_

_There's a man who already claims her_

_An evil gangster who runs this town_

_She's unhappy and no one blames her_

_The most lascivious racketeer around_

_He buys her love_

_He buys her clothes_

_He's rough but this is all the poor girl knows_

_He buys her love_

_There's no escape_

_But now a triangle has taken shape_

He hoped he hadn’t forced Dysus to do anything he didn’t want, the Turian was practically half naked in every number he had to do. He had moxy that’s for sure, Nichole really helped him out after all, that girl could do anything. 

_And so the sailor, driven mad_

_Determined to unseat this cad_

_Swears to risk his life for love_

_And there's our show_

_All of the above_

_A spectacle of savagery_

_A testament to lunacy_

Britton felt a tightness in his chest and bent over to cough into his sleeve with extreme force. 

_So exciting_

_The audience will stomp and cheer_

He kept coughing, trying so hard to suppress it in the fabric, but the tickle and tightness remained, leaving him breathless with tears in his eyes. Ne’line patted his back with a question if he was ok. 

_So delighting_

_It will run for fifty years_

_So exciting_

_Make them laugh or make them cry_

_So delighting_

_And in the end should someone die?_

“Britton…” Ne’line asked with concern when the coughing finally subsided. A few audience members looked behind them towards the slight noise disturbance. He waved her off immediately. 

“I’m fine just a tickle.” 

“Did you take your medication today?” 

“Yes Ne’line. I’m fine.” He assured with some force, trying to relax back into his chair. That coughing fit had left him exhausted and incredibly nauseous. He just needed a minute. 

Ne’line must have read him like a book even in the shadows. “Maybe we should leave.” 

“No.” He said firmly, grabbing her arm before she could rise. “I’m. Fine. It was nothing, I'm all good now.” He looked back to the stage as a means to end the conversation. He wasn;t going to leave his own damned show. They needed him, and he needed to be here. 

_So exciting_

_Make our dream reality_

_So delighting_

_Make it happen just for me_

_Make it happen just for me_

**End of Act I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tech terms yay!
> 
> There is no ‘purple’ in light, it is always VIOLET 
> 
> Q2Q: basically you stand around on stage and let the light/sound people work on transitions and positioning adjustments, then you go to the next ‘cue’ to see how it looks and sounds. It's a lot of standing around and waiting.
> 
> When you need to rush around (especially backstage and especially in the dark) you say "clear!" and people supposed to gtfo of the way
> 
> Mic packs/Mic check: small wireless microphones you tape to your forehead/around the ear with the transmitter packs belted under your costumes. making sure they have charged batteries can be a BITCH depending on the equipment. Mic check happens before every single show to make sure they all work and are adjusted properly. 
> 
> When given a command "five till' or 'ten till' its like a theatre law to do a verbal 'thank you' repeat to let the SM, ASM or whoever know you heard the command.  
> "Five 'till places!"  
> "Thank you five!"


	14. Backstage Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show finally opened, but that doesn’t mean the problems are over, in fact things are just getting started. Reviews for the Broadway show gain spotlight, and a lot of the attention isn’t positive. Can the show survive its run on the Citadel?  
> Dysus an Nichole were drawn together, but can they make a Human/Turian relationship work?  
> Will Dysus believe he made the right choice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A GREAT N7 DAY BECAUSE I DID!
> 
>   
> I would just end up replying to all of your comments the same exact way so I just want to tell everyone THANK YOU. OH MY GOSH thank you all for your views, comments, your kudos, your BOOKMARKS (like whaaat). I am floored every single day by your kind words and excitement. I had no idea this was going to be so well received. You are all so amazing.  
> Anyways here’s an attempt on fluff.

ACT II

  
  


“Cheers Bohemians!” 

“Cheers!” 

They all reached inward over the several square tables connected together to clink their glasses in a moment of triumph. Members of Cast and Crew alike agreed for a celebratory meal out after the first show. Food and drink were more of a necessity than blatant partying, and the idea of hitting the Diner was agreed on immediately. It must have been quite a sight from the night shift to see twenty odd people parading in their quiet establishment with bold makeup and glitter still on their bodies, or the techies following after in all black clothes. Needless to say they’ve received odd looks.

“Here’s to the next few months of glorious hell!” 

“Cheers!” 

They clinked their glasses again before chugging. Joker wiped his face with the back of his hand as Greg sat across from him, looking around the room wildly. 

“Anyone see Nichole? Or Dysus?” They said they were coming, they couldn’t have left long after they did. Dysus was only helping Nichole put her costumes away after bows. 

They received a decent round of applause from the audience, those who remained for the whole show at least. It wasn’t hard to miss, but the bohemians all kept their spirits up- especially for the directors sake. Not that it was hard, some may complain, but the fact that the work had a product to show was incredible- magical even- at least to Greg. 

They were answered by a swinging door that nearly crashed into a pair of salarians attempting to leave their meal early from the increased disruptions around them. A female voice apologized profusely as the two pushed past her with disgust. She waved to the group in kind. 

“Hey there they are!” A dancer announced with a glass raised to her mouth. A wave of cheers and lifted glasses filled the diner. The other customers in the corners of the diner growling in annoyance and preparing to also leave. 

Nichole approached the other side of the table to an open seat with a tall Turian following behind. “Fashionably,” She said after a beat, running her fingers through her wild hair, looking a little ruffled and tossing her show jacket over the back of the chair. 

Her head snapped around her looking towards the kitchen. “Is Duke working?” She asked in disbelief. 

Joker nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him, “Yeah I guess your asshole manager forced him to work when we all arrived.” 

She exhaled through partially parted lips, patting Dysus on the shoulder before saying, “I’m going to help him out and I'll get us some drinks.” She was gone before he could reply, not that he had anything to say. The small group watched the Turian sink into his chair, slightly breathless with a head nod of greeting. 

Greg chuckled, “Damn did you guys run here? Did that piece of shit car finally die?” Joker laughed into his cup; Tali smirked beneath her violet mask. 

The Turian wasn’t listening, his gaze following after the woman as she vanished into the kitchen. 

Greg frowned, snapping his fingers in front of his face to grab his attention. Dysus perked up immediately. “What?” 

“You okay Dysus?” Greg asked. 

From behind Joker Rico appeared, stumbling his way to the bathroom. He leaned heavily on the back of Tali’s chair in time to overhear Greg. “He’s riding that high! It was his first show, man!” 

His loud tone caught the attention from Charles down the line. “Yes Dysus, how does it feel to be a true thespian now?”

With more eyes on the Turian it made him shift in his seat. “Nothing I've ever been trained for.” 

A safe enough answer, if they had prodded much longer who knew what he’d give up. Appeased with his basic response the others turned back to their personal conversations and food. 

Greg wasn’t completely believing it, something was up that wasn't the show. He picked up his foot to rest on his chair and leaned forward to take a closer look. “Oi Dysus. You got a little something on your… mandible I think?” 

The Turian stilled; a half second second passing before snatching a napkin to wipe at his faceplates. Something of a specific shade of red came off that Greg recognized almost too quickly. Greg grabbed him by the wrist faster than a blackwatch agent going for the gun. 

“Dysus.” His mouth agape, hissing with shock only to nearly whisper the last word so only he could hear. “Is this _lipstick_?”

“Uh-”

“-Here’s a water; we don’t sell alcohol here so I figured this would be safe.” The unhinged conversation was thankfully cut off by an arm reaching out between the two to place a glass next to Dysus, then shift to pour water from a pitcher into Greg’s. She jumped in so fast her chest was practically in Dysus’s face, he quickly turned his head with rising heat in his neck before he was caught looking down her shirt. 

Greg, knowing little to nothing about Turian anatomy, was able to pick up on other cues to see that little Dysus was being bashful. “So Nichole,” the man said casually in his own chair as she sat in hers, “Do anything _interesting_ after the show?” 

Brown hair was pushed past her shoulder, “Uh, no, unless you think putting costumes away is interesting?” Her tone slowly began to match his, a nonchalant air of lies and secrets, but she could do it with a smile on her face. Dysus on her other side was trying not to squirm. 

Greg was close to making them spill. “Can I ask-”

There was a dip in the volume of the room at the exact moment one of the dancers casually asked aloud: “Shame Britton couldn’t come. Anyone know why?” 

Nichole cut in almost too quickly, her cheeky smile disappearing. “He needs rest.” She took a breath, it wasn’t their fault they were curious and now, many heads turned to look at her. She bit the inside of her cheek. “He had a long week, Ne’line told me he turned in after bows.” A few members frowned, others nodded and returned to their meals. Rico, making his return from the bathroom, called over the sea of heads, 

“That won’t stop the notes! Amy will send them to us one way or another!”  
“If you all stopped fucking around maybe we wouldn’t get any.” Charles claimed back, earning a roar of jest from the others- resetting the party atmosphere once more. 

They return to their food and drinks, and Dysus and Nichole granted each other a few side glances during the evening. A small smile on her end and a tiny grin from him. If they hadn’t already promised they were going to the diner, they probably would still be at their own little rehearsal. But they had time, taking things slow is possible now that their schedules were more freed up.

At the end of the week, Dysus will have her over for their first date.

~♫~

The next morning Dysus made his way into his work building. Rajil wanted to see him, and to meet in Qui’in’s office. The same walls and lights didn’t seem as daunting as they did before. 

Strangely enough as he walked the halls, people were giving him side stares, some flicking their mandibles in amusement. He got close enough to hear some rumbling subvocals that stopped before he could tell what they were leaning towards. A little self conscious, he quickly made his way upstairs, and opened the door to Qui’in’s office in almost a rush. 

“Guess who now runs this operation while Lorik is away?” Rajil spun around in his Uncle’s desk chair as the door opened, nearly scaring the shit out of Dysus even though he knew he was going to be here. The looks around the office had made him uneasy. He closed the door behind him and shook off the feeling.

“Congratulations Rajil.” 

“I’m surprised he took the trip for you.” Rajil continued in high spirits, spreading the palms of his hands across the desk surface like something precious. “I never thought he would travel, the only trips i’ve seen him made were either to the bar or Illium for the funeral.” Dysus was glad Rajil’s joy distracted him from seeing Dysus almost being scared by him, it gave him the chance to approach the seat across the desk. This had all surprised him too; a tiny part of him was sure he was going to be forced to go, but then Qui’in just...takes it? “And the cold,” Rajil emphasized, sitting back and straight in his chair to finally look his friend in the eye, “I didn’t want to keep reminding you when you were deciding but I am glad you and I can live under the simulated sun.” He was staring at Dysus intently now, to a point where his friend started to think Rajil was a little too happy about something, not just getting a new temporary office and title. He cocked his head slightly to the side,

“So that explains your behavior, but what about the rest of the office?” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

Almost with too much glee Rajil quickly typed into the desktop terminal he was already logged into. After a few moments he turned the screen around. “Look familiar?” 

He had brought up a small article in the entertainment section of a small reporting site, a familiar name and title from days at the office. The closer he looked the more he recognized words and eventually- seeing that it was a review in bold about the musical. He started to read, but stopped when noticing the large picture front and center of an image of the stage during production. But there in the back-

That was him. Half naked, black leather, low pants, lifting one of the female dancers off her pilet. His friend filled the silence, hiding a snicker but just barely. “Caused quite a stir, not that anything happens here anyway. If you had covered your marks I might not have recognized you!”

Dysus plopped down in the chair with a sigh, swearing every word the humans have taught him. 

That Nichole and Greg taught him. 

He didn’t expect animosity, and didn’t think to ask for it, but the idea of being plastered all over the extranet visually- 

“Lyla said you could get a job at Choras if you ever want,” Rajil tapped his talons on the desk amused. 

“It's just a costume.” 

“Of course.” 

“For the character I play.”

“Sure.”

It was just a picture, but then again- he must have been mentioned in the interviews, his name is in the cast. The Gracchus son announcing his own disownment. Dysus sighed again. “So they all know?”

The teasing eased away as Rajil folded his hands together, how much he looked like his uncle in that position was creepy. “I run on efficiency Dysus, you should know that.” His tone was serious, now it felt like he was in an actual office with an actual supervisor. It was short lived. “The next question is: do you have any posters I can hang around the office?” 

Dysus growled at the laughing Turian across from him. He knew he was teasing but _this_. 

“If anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with me.” The dark Turian got up from the desk and walked around to place a firm hand on his cowl. “But do expect some light punches from our coworkers. They may ask you to do a dance or two for them.”

“I’m going back to work.” 

~♫~

She could feel the stares as she stepped inside the public shuttle and went to find a seat. It was the evening late in the week, so the influx of foot traffic wasn’t a surprise to her. The seats were all full with various groups alike, so she opted to stand with her hand on a support rail above her. 

Amongst the separate conversations and busybodies Nichole was somewhat glad to not be noticed for her on stage work at the Eternity Theatre. Tonight was her time, she was having her first date with Dysus. They had agreed to finally set forth and spend some private time together not rehearsing in the Pit or at the theatre rooms. 

The decision was made in the dim light of the women's dressing room, with her pushing him against the wall next to the costume rack, pressing her lips against his with need and taking in his every rapid breath.

They had barely double checked that the cast had indeed gone ahead to the theatre before she jumped him. At first it was a bit awkward, a bit slow, but with each ‘rehearsal’ they took, Nichole and Dysus alike found each other to be very fast learners. It’s never gone past a makeout though, and that was the pace they were fine with. At least Nichole thought she was fine with it. 

Down the row of seats she noted the strong feeling of being watched. A glance in her peripheral through strands of her long hair confirmed a group of men huddled together whispering amongst another and giving her sly, hungry looks. One of them even whistled at her.

Nichole rolled her eyes, keeping attention to the name of the next stop and trying not to adjust her cropped jean jacket. The hum of the shuttle and the whispers of others returned her mind to the task at hand. To block out the stares the woman lifted her head and closed her eyes, taking in the sounds and smells and she could pretend she was on a subway. 

She exited two stops later, well aware of the group of men exiting as well, although she knew their intentions were only to harass, not engage. She went down one street as they turned down the other, lucky to not approach her, but still daring to call after her. 

Whistle boy whistled again, while his companion cupped his hands over his mouth and called out. “Hey baby where you going?”

“Wanna come hang out with us?” 

She ignored them. She had to learn quickly to ignore them ever since she hit puberty. On the streets of New York City and the shining lights of Broadway she walked hundreds of times, having to ignore similar comments of both men and women. Here, thousands of lightyears away on a floating station in a glittery cotton candy nebula, the Citadel was still somewhat a stranger to be considered exactly like home. The city life- the Silversun Strip- that oozed familiarity. The rest outside the bubble of neon and pipeline steam was still so new and shrouded in rules she has yet to understand- species to understand. 

And so, seeing so many strangers with unknown intentions, made her slightly uneasy as she walked through the dark alleyways of the next ward, following the small map on her Tool. Her flats making small tippy tap noises on the seemingly clean streets as she followed the small path given to her. 

No one knew about the date, except Greg and therefore Rico, Tali, and maybe Joker. Attempting to be discreet wasn’t exactly new to her, but the process was. It was hard to keep this kind of thing on the down low when you lived with five other people, and they all were your coworkers, and they were all theatre people. 

She had to get ready at Britton's apartment by her request. He was finally taking all their advice and relaxing when he could, working only on some paperwork and phone calls with the news on in the background of his living room. He didn’t ask, didn’t pry, only curious where she was going all dressed up for the night. 

‘Just out’ she had told him with the pucker of her lips to apply the lipstick. It was her routine to go out, she never went without her lipstick, and when she brandished the high end brand, well- Kyle would have known immediately what she was doing. That was the last thing she wanted. She was still peeved he gave _her_ flowers to An’la. She saw him getting his flirt on to the Asari. She wanted to think he moved on, but it was too early to be sure. 

The deep darkness of the lower wards drifted into a more open, but still dark area of a nicer neighborhood. Nicer, smoother skycars scurried above in the sky with the constant traffic. Greg mentioned the area was for bigger money, and although it wasn’t surprising that Dysus would live here, it was still...something to get used to when she thought of the reserved, humble Turian being of the upper class. Hopefully she dressed up well enough. It was a short, black, tight cocktail dress with a plunging sweetheart neckline but _still._

She clutched the strap of her bag as she rounded a corner up a set of stairs to the final street. A few stares went her way, mostly from the noticeable increase of Turian inhabitants Nichole evaded as best she could, trying to be discreet as she made her way into the tall apartment building and up an _actual_ working elevator.

She knocked on the door, flicked her hair over her shoulder, puffed out her chest, and waited. 

The door opened after less than eight seconds. 

The light from within was brighter, casting a dark shadow over that dashing plated face. Bright eyes softened at her arrival. His mandibles opened up the slightest in what she thought was a grin; his hand resting on the doorframe between them. 

Nichole had taken off her purse, holding it in front of her and turning her body left and right with a smile, “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Lost in the moment it was obvious he was looking her up and down, and she could hear the slightest hum deep in his chest she hoped was approval. The strangers on the street suddenly became a pleasant memory; because in the end this is who she was dressed up for, and he could check her out all he wanted. It didn't last, the Turian caught himself and straightened up to step inside out of the way. “Come in.” 

She wasn’t sure what to expect now that she got here; the first thing that hit her was a slight smell. Her brain neurons fired off vague memories of a workshop, smelling something metallic and slightly chemically, like a polish. Her steps continued slowly, her eyes roamed the area in awe. “I can’t believe this is the first time i’ve been to your place.” Through the short entryway hallway it opened up into a room sharing a fairly large kitchen on the left, and a smaller living room space with furniture at the far back by the windows. Between them was a dining room table with three chairs, two of them much larger and oddly shaped than she’s ever seen. The furniture, appliances immediately fell into neat grids and cohesivity. Her voice fell into a slightly fake-but-not-really annoyed groan. “Of course it's spotless.” 

“Your place is fine.” 

“Our place is a sty,” She swung her purse her her side as she went further into his home. “A fun sty but still.” Past the basic decor, her eyes glazed over the spartan apartment straight to the tall ceiling and the far windows. They were thin, but tall, and very few, but what she saw was the citadel not at the top, but above the shroud of darkness she’s lived in for so long. Not as bright as the Strip, but muted to hold the intensity of life throughout the station. It was pretty. Her voice hushed. “This is amazing.” 

Surprisingly light steps followed behind her. “It's alright.” 

This was better than alright. Maybe after a few months she could afford to get a place here. Lost in her thoughts she turned from the window to find Dysus a few feet behind, staring at her. 

“You look...good.” 

She knew that, but it still made her feel special. “Thanks.” she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. This was her favorite ‘date’ dress. Not really sure what else to say she opened her mouth to fill the space with whatever came out. “Kyle actually got it for me.” Her eyes snapped back up at the mere mention of her ex, she stumbled over herself. “-Nevermind. Forget I said that.” 

Dysus didn't say anything, but simply gave a short nod, saying something about getting drinks before looking away from her, and for the slightest second she thought he looked hurt. 

With the kitchen island between them she decided to close the distance and try to bring back that Dysus energy. “So what’s for dinner? Don’t tell me you cooked.” 

Even with his back to her giving all the signs that still got an amused chuckle out of him, his smooth duel rumbles shaking butterflies in her gut. She swears she could remember how his subvocals felt when she had him pressed up between her and the dressing room walls-

She pinched herself beneath the shield of her purse, keeping her strained smile long enough for Dysus to turn to his kitchen counter. 

_Stop it Nichole, just enjoy the damn date._

She enjoyed ‘rehearsal’ in fact she enjoyed it a lot. She really wanted more, and more of him. 

Alas, ‘rehearsal’ would have to be enough. He’s never been with a human before, and she’s never taken her time before. 

When he turned around he placed two glasses on the counter, one closer towards her with what looked like a sort of champagne. She accepted her glass she he turned around again, looping back with two large paper bags. On them a swirling logo familiar with an establishment Nichole remembers passing on her way here. Takeout. Simple. 

“Don’t worry it’s not from the diner.” 

It did smell good. Her stomach growled in agreement.

~♫~

Dysus tried convincing himself he wasn’t stressed or worried about the date they had planned. Throughout the days of going to work with the new metaphorical spotlight following him around announcing his glamorous presence to everyone within a two mile radius of his nighttime activity he was only looking forward to the one on one time. They did their shows in the evening and so far it's been about the same as opening night, if not only slightly better. The audience numbers remained stagnant, nothing abandoned, but never a full house. 

As the days drew nearer he began to wonder about asking for help. Doing research on human customs only took him so far, but to bring in his few friends for dating advice shut down before the thought was able to linger. He was a full grown adult Turian, he could do dinner and a movie in the safety of his own apartment. 

But what if he wanted more? Their time spent _practicing_ kissing...then just kissing, has been one heck of an experience to the Turian. He’s never done anything like it and was found nearly paralyzed from how she tasted-

 _Enough_. He told himself with a swig of his Turian brandy. He was lucky enough to remember to check he had a Levo safe drink in his bar to offer her. He prepared the takeout foods in their proper separation and Nichole helped carry it to the table. Should he sit next to her? Across from her? He tried to think of how to respect her boundaries but being…. In date mode? Remembering a note from his extranet search he jumped up and pushed in the Asari chair closer to her right before she sat down at the end of the table. She gave her a wide smile and a blessed thank you that boosted his confidence tenfold. To not look stupid trying to make a decision he plopped down in the chair perpendicular to her, with one seat between them. She simply raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. 

Then they ate. 

In near silence. 

Spirits why was this suddenly so hard? The smalltalk and polite comments were fine, but he lacked what exactly to do next. And he was paying way too much attention to her bare collarbones and slim neck. Her dress looked damn good on her, and he liked it until she said who it was from. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, it was a new feeling he didn’t know how to process. He ate his meal in tangent with hers, his eyes darting over to watch her. He was drawn to her lips with a slight gloss that shined from the kitchen lights. 

Was sex on the table? Dysus hadn’t expected it to be, but a deep part of him assumed. He’s never been with a human before and not only were their fraternization rules vastly different, Nichole herself set the pace. Maybe she did not find Turians attractive? Would she ever find him attractive? Could he do this knowing he would have no outlet of stress relief?

He stopped himself right there, wondering where these thoughts were even coming from and why they were almost vaguely in Rajils voice. He’s had his flings sure, but they were on shore leave after a night in a bar. After he was banned from dancing one of his comrades suggested stress relief, and would help him get a girl to follow to a seedy motel somewhere, leaving him with only a slightly filled void. 

He decided to try and make conversation and break the walls of his own inner box just as she made the same decision.

“I-”

“So-” 

They stopped, smiling at each other humorously. 

“Sorry-”

“I-”

Nichole gave a cute laugh, and Dysus grinned. He put down his utensil next to his plate. “Damn. This is…”

“Awkward?” She finished, still beaming, not at all looking how he felt the situation was going. “Dysus, the food is delicious, and i’m spending time with you. This is just new to me.”

“You mean dinner?” Dysus was staring down at his plate finding it difficult to meet her eyes. Who knew a human could be so intimidating? He hoped she couldn’t hear the strain in his voice. How could he compete against what he knew she already had a thousand times over? She was a professional actress, a confident beautiful woman. He knew how others saw her, she was considered a hell of a catch. Rocks sat in his stomach at the thought that his little night in was a very bad idea. 

The silence on her end made his heart pound. Then, a hand reached out across the table for his. “No. Dysus I’ve been with a lot of guys. A lot.” She emphasized the point, at the same time she slid out of her chair with such stealth suddenly she was in the chair next to him. Her perfume entering his throat and clouding his nerves once more. “But i’ve never had a simple date before.” She gave a throaty chuckle, “It’s always been tangos in the dark, then maybe a date. I like it this way.”

It didn’t really make him feel better, but having her so close to him was giving him different feelings in his plates. He sat up and nodded his head. 

“I like this too.” It was only a part of a lie. “How about another drink?”

Those lips perked into a sly smile. “Careful now, you might hear the accent.” 

He pulled himself away from her before he did something drastic. “Oh I think i’d like it.” 

Her voice followed after him like a melody; she thankfully turned to watch out the windows she seemed so mesmerized with. Maybe on another date he could show her much better sights. 

“So you said you picked us a movie...vid I mean?” 

He filled the glasses and escorted her to the couch, giving her the drink while he briefly cleared the table. She got up to try and help but he waved her down. He wasn’t going to make her do such a thing tonight. He finally dragged himself to the couch to find her patting the cushion next to him. He stopped in the midst of panic that she was going to be pressed up against him for an entire vid to be relieved of the comedic view. 

“Don’t laugh at me, it takes some getting used to.” She was struggling to sit up in the Turian furniture, it was practically eating her, making her look like a victim of an adorable crime. He hummed in amusement and leaned in. 

“Turians need different types of support,” He explained, sitting next to her and holding her arm to help her adjust. She squirmed a bit, her dress riding up enough for Dysus to need to look away as she readjusted it, snuggling up right against his side and folding her legs on the couch. 

“Is this ok?” She asked through long luscious eyelashes. His throat went too dry to answer with words. 

The two had wanted to learn more about each other and their cultures, so with this date Nichole had the idea for Dysus to pick the vid of something of his culture. He didn’t want to break it to Nichole that Turian vids were not at all like the musical or vids he’s seen of the human world, but he sought out and sifted through the hundreds of war stories and documentaries to look at some of the better...war stories and documentaries. 

He put it on and the awkwardness of dinner went away due to her many questions and comments. Answering them was relaxing; although he wasn't used to there being conversation during a vid, but it was nice. 

It was enlightening to think she wasn’t asking questions to be annoying, she was genuinely curious about things not human, and she wasn’t a scientist or historian. She was just- her. 

As the vid continued her questions became less and her body pressed closer. Thinking he was missing something Dysus tried to think of a move here. Carefully- not too quickly- he lifted his arm and draped it on the back of the couch behind her, a move he saw Kyle do much to his dismay. She snuggled in closer, and he called that a victory. Her amazing scent and warm body was starting to become a distraction though. If she had asked a question about the vid now he’d be lost to answer. 

“Tell me something about you.” she suddenly asked, almost in desperation. She wanted her mind taken off of something else. If it meant he could stop thinking about how soft her skin is then he was more than happy to oblige, or at least content. His bland sad life wasn’t of anything worth her time. 

And knowing her dress was from kyle made him want to rip it off her more. If it got somehow damaged he would just replace it with something better.

His mandibles flared in amusement. “Like what? My theatre background?”

Her chuckles rumbled against him, he could feel her smile. “I think I could guess. No, tell me about...you in the military?”

He didn’t think she’d ever ask that. The vid was fine, nothing too gory or one of the extremely historically stuffed Turian produced pieces, and maybe she was bored, but whatever it was after droning about the lighter sides of his time in the military their energy began to dwindle cohesively. It was quiet, but safe. His arm had sunk down to wrap around the woman sometime during the third act, and his tale of a mission with an Asari Commando Unit. He kept out the parts of the drama and his dancing and isolation out of it; take all that out and he seemed to have a bland, boring record. Still, she listened to every word. 

And just as Dysus thinks the credits began to roll during the final dry commanding officers monologue, he realized she had fallen asleep at his side. His eyes were heavy, his arm around her feeling so right, the need to see her naked beneath him vanishing with the flickering lights from the outside ward illuminating the small human in a light glow. 

Her soft breaths bouncing off his chest. She almost sparkled like she did on stage in her lavish costumes. Like a diamond. 

Unable to fight the exhaustion, or the need to move her to his bed for the night, he too fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO N7 DAY
> 
> We are getting a REMASTERED TRILOGY *swoons at HD Garrus* and a new game!
> 
> In other awesome news The Moulin Rouge Musical was nominated for 14 Tonys, including Karen Olivio for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical, and Aaron Tveit for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Musical


End file.
